Everything a Big Bad Wolf Could Want
by ZephyrTheBunny
Summary: Kurt falls in love with a werewolf but doesn't realize it's really Dave Karofsky. After a few encounters with his Wolf, Kurt gets pregnant. How will he deal with only a part-time father for his child and a world that hates people who aren't human? AU MPREG and bestiality
1. Who's that I see walkin' in these woods?

**I'm not making any promises as to how often this will be updated, because I want to give _Son of A_ priority. **

**Title is from Sam the Sham's Li'l Red Riding Hood.  
**

**AU from end of second season.  
**

**Sorry if the first few paragraphs are a bit Twilight-ish; I just see Blaine as a vampire. It fits him so well: suave and debonair but with something malicious just below the surface. Don't worry; there won't be any Blaine-hate in this.**

**Full-grown werewolves in this look like wolf-headed people with tails and fluffy bodies and they have slightly longer arms to make walking on all fours easier. If you go to Google images and look up "werewolf", the second image is more or less what I'm picturing. Baby werewolves will be described when it comes up.**

**Also, the capitalization (and lack-thereof) of the word "human" is important, as you will see. One is being used as a proper noun for a specific human, whereas one is lowercase for the generalized term.**

xoxoxo

"Kurt, I think we should see other people." The words had been haunting him for a week now, ringing in his ears. How could Blaine say something so horrible to him? _Do_ something so horrible as break up with him? It was evil and cruel and atrocious and baneful and malignant and nefarious and every other synonym for "mean" that Kurt was too shocked to think of at the moment. They _loved_ each other. Though, someday, Kurt would admit, quietly to himself, in the back of his mind, Blaine's reasoning had been sound. "I'm an unhuman Kurt – a _vampire_. I need to be with my own kind. I need someone who understands life and the world the way it is for me: someone who understands the hardships vampires face. And someone who understands the good aspects of it as well: how wonderful it is to feel all your cares melt away as the sun sets, someone who knows how _incredible_ it is to feel an animal's heart beat between your lips. And most importantly, I need to be with someone that I don't want to hurt. I _love_ you, Kurt, but the unhuman part of me – my baser instincts – I want to _eat_ you, Kurt."

"Then make me a vampire."

"Kurt, you know I could never do that. The laws are very strict when it comes to unhumans. If I turned you, I could be arrested." Blaine had smiled at him fondly – sadly – before standing and leaving him.

That had been a week ago. Though it could have been any moment since then; Kurt constantly relived that conversation in his mind. What could he have said? What could he have done to make Blaine change his mind? He had come to one simple conclusion; if Blaine wouldn't make him into a vampire, Kurt would find another vampire to do the job.

That's how he found himself, outside, in the dead of night, in the Redzone. There were Redzones littered throughout the United States. They were safe havens for unhumans; places where the creatures of darkness could hunt and congregate and basically be themselves without fear of normal humans. Redzones were regularly stocked with deer and moose and other hapless prey for unhumans to hunt so that they didn't need to fall back on human prey. Redzones were only "active," considered to be safe havens, at night. During the day, they were just normal woods, fields, mountains, quarries, whatever the local authorities were kind enough to bestow upon society's creatures of the night.

"Unhuman" itself was a catchall phrase that could refer to any human-like creature that wasn't, strictly speaking, human. It had replaced the less politically correct terms "demon," "monster" and "beast" sometime in the late sixties, though people still used those hateful words. Once upon a time, dictionaries used "inhuman" to describe these not-quite-humans, but linguists had complained that "inhuman" should be reserved for _actual_ people committing acts considered barbaric, not creatures that were, in and of themselves, barbaric. So "unhuman" had entered into the English language.

Kurt didn't really know much of that; he only knew that he empathized with unhumans. From what he'd seen, sensationalist news aside, unhumans were just like normal people; some were good, some were bad. They were simply villain-ized because of circumstances beyond their control. As a gay teen, Kurt understood how that felt. More than once, he had heard some ignorant homophobe tell him he'd grow up to be a pedophile or some other stupid, ludicrous thing.

That's why he didn't shirk at the idea of being a vampire. Yes, there were plenty of drawbacks, but there were benefits as well. Just like with every choice in life. And contrary to popular belief, he wouldn't all of a sudden become a mindless killing machine. Vampires needed fresh blood to survive, true. But where they got that blood didn't matter; any mammal would suit their needs. As he traipsed through the woods of the Redzone, that's all he thought about; how the change wouldn't change _who_ he was, just _what_ he was. He was so focused on his goal of becoming a vampire that he didn't even stop to consider that he might run into other creatures that go bump in the night.

xoxoxo

Prey had been scarce tonight. Oh well. Human always ate well on the night of the change; Wolf wasn't particularly hungry. He was, however, thirsty. The chilly water of the stream felt nice as it swirled around his muzzle. It was unseasonably warm for being only June. Occasionally, he felt a tickle against his muzzle. His reasoning skills weren't _quite_ as good as Human's, but he was still able to figure out that what he felt were fish. Little fish swimming around his mouth. He gathered all the breath he had stored in his lungs and breathed out into the water, scaring away the little fish and creating lots of bubbles around his snout. That ought to keep the fish away. The last thing Wolf wanted was a minnow up his nose…_again_.

Wolf was a werewolf. Like all werewolves, he existed as a dual being. Human – the "were" aspect of him – lived a normal life twenty-six days of the lunar month. But for the three days surrounding the full moon, Wolf took over more and more of who Human was. During the nights of, before and after the full moon, Wolf took full control of him at night, but during the day, only his heightened senses bled through into Human's life.

Unlike most werewolves, the line between Wolf and Human was very firmly drawn. Most werewolves were the same person whether they were human or wolf. But Human despised Wolf so passionately that he had closed off his mind to Wolf. Wolf had no hard feelings toward Human for this; he understood Human's reasons for hating him. It didn't make it easier, though. Because of this separation of the two, Human had no memories of anything Wolf ever did during the nights of the strong moon and Wolf only had fleeting memories of Human's life during the nights when the moon was weaker.

xoxoxo

Kurt stood as still and silent as he could the moment he spotted the hulking creature, bent over the shallow stream of water. He'd seen enough movies to know he was looking at a werewolf. There weren't supposed to be _any_ werewolves in this area. Yes, there were supposedly momentary sightings of a werewolf in the area, but due to the lack of werewolf kills, it was largely assumed these werewolves were only passing through. Werewolves were supposed to be one of the most dangerous of the unhumans; they were born hunters, they were volatile, and they had little more sense than an animal. They were ruled by instinct and this made them _extremely_ dangerous.

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, trying to wish-away the creature only twenty feet away, and realized, for the first time, he might not make it home alive.

xoxoxo

Wolf stood up and shook his head, trying to dry his muzzle as much as possible. Just because it was warm, didn't mean it was acceptable for him to go around soaking wet all night. As he shook his head, the scents of the forest started flooding into his nose: trees, mud, moss, flowers, sap, birds and _human_. Wolf had seen other people in the woods before, but they were usually unhumans like him. Some unhumans, like sprites and hags, he simply went around and avoided. They were largely harmless to him. Others, like vampires, he would try and run off. He didn't like vampires. They were cruel, shameless hunters; they bled their prey slowly instead of giving them a quick, painless death. Human may have hated werewolves, but Wolf hated vampires.

This wasn't an unhuman, however. This was an ordinary, run-of-the-mill, harmless-as-a-new-born-chipmunk _human_. What was a human doing in his woods? Down on all fours, Wolf trotted over to human, curious. When he was close enough to sniff the human properly, he started taking mental notes. How often did he get to see humans? This was an event to be remembered. He liked humans. He even liked Human, despite Human's hatred of him. Wolf may have been a werewolf, but he thought of himself more as a were-puppy; he was affectionate and liked to play. Maybe if this human weren't so afraid he would play with him?

This human was fairly skinny, like a sprite, but taller, like a nymph. There were no nymphs in this Redzone, however. He only knew about nymphs from a snippet he'd picked up from Human's memories. This human's heart was beating rapidly, like a scared rabbit, but his breathing was slow and deep…also like a scared rabbit. He didn't smell like a rabbit though. In fact, he barely smelled like a human. There were countless layers of scents on this human, and almost none of them natural. While he didn't know the names for what he was smelling, the scents he picked up were: shampoo, conditioner, face wash, body wash, exfoliater, soap, clear nail varnish, moisturizer, hand cream, cuticle cream, concealer and hairspray. Almost all of them were fruit scented. He was a fruit basket-scented scarred rabbit. Wolf wasn't sure why, but that thought amused him.

Buried under all of those scents, were the important ones; the human was male, in good health, had a close pack or family unit of some kind and ate well (despite his scrawny appearance).

xoxoxo

Kurt dared to open his eyes just a peek. He knew the werewolf was close to him; he could hear it breathing. The werewolf was down on all fours, but even so, it's head still came up to Kurt's chest. He couldn't imagine how huge it would be if it stood on it's hind legs. It was sniffing at him. Kurt had to restrain himself from slapping the creature when it started sniffing around his crotch. How rude!

After a moment, when the werewolf had finished sniffing him in inappropriate areas, it looked up and, for the first time, Kurt could see its eyes. It had remarkably human, intelligent eyes. It didn't look particularly evil, either. Its expression was soft, relaxed. If it were going to eat him, shouldn't its teeth be bared? His lips drawn back, crinkling up the skin around his nose and eyes? The way it looked at Kurt, he was moderately surprised that its tongue wasn't lolling out. Kurt could feel himself calming as the wolf watched him.

xoxoxo

The human watched him as intently as Wolf had sniffed the human. Humans had stronger eyes; wolves had stronger noses. The human no longer sounded like a scarred rabbit. His breathing was becoming normal and his heart had slowed.

It was awkward having to look up at the human, so Wolf stood. The human's heart beat immediately picked back up and he could distinctly hear the sharp intake of breath. He must have moved too fast and startled the human. He didn't want the human to be afraid of him, though. He bent in close to human's face, and swiped his tongue over his cheek.

xoxoxo

When the werewolf had stood up, Kurt thought he was going to faint. It was slightly taller than Finn, making it a veritable giant as far as Kurt was concerned. It had continued to stare him in the eye for a moment before _licking_ him. Kurt could feel the sticky warmth of _werewolf_ **drool** on his cheek. As disgusted as that should have made him, it actually helped him calm down a bit. It was like coming across a scary pit-bull, straining at the end of its leash, only to find out it wanted nothing more than to jump on you and shower you with doggy-kisses. This _monster_ was just a big dopey dog. Kurt smiled at it and chuckled awkwardly, amused at his own previous terror. It seemed completely foolish now to be afraid of the werewolf.

xoxoxo

Encouraged by the human's laughter, Wolf bent down and licked him again, more vigorously this time. Once he got passed all the artificial chemicals on the human's face, he tasted really good. Between laughs of amusement, Wolf could hear the human let out half-hearted protests, "Ew! Hehe, stop that! That's disgusting! Ugh, you just licked my _tongue_." Wolf wagged his tail energetically in time with his licks even as the human placed both hands on Wolf's chest and pushed him back.

Raising his arm, the human wiped his face off in the crook of his elbow. When he had lowered his arm, the human took a moment to look over Wolf. He examined Wolf's face, even being so bold as to lift up his hand and stroke Wolf's ear curiously. Wolf leaned into the touch, but the human simply withdrew his hand, rather than give him nice ear scritches.

The human continued his examination, lowering his eyes until he was looking over Wolf's chest. Wolf knew Human was ashamed of his looks; he didn't like his "beefy" build. Wolf was rather proud of himself though; if he actually cared for more than casual, recreational hunting, he'd make an apex predator.

The human's eyes went even lower…and then went _wide_. The human's heart even did this weird thing where it sped up for an instant before rapidly plummeting in speed. And then the human's scent changed; not the yucky chemical scents, but the underlying man-scent of the human. Wolf had never smelled a human's scent get like that before, but he had certainly smelled animal's scents change like that before.

The human was _aroused_.

xoxoxo

It hadn't really occurred to Kurt before that the werewolf was naked any more than normal people notice that a dog or cat is naked. It's something we naturally just accept of the animal kingdom. However, the more Kurt examined the werewolf, the more he realized just how _human_ he was. He had well-defined (albeit furry) pecks, strong biceps and nice abs. It was really only the face and the fur that separated him from humans.

But Kurt had only partially come to the realization that werewolves were more "were" than "wolf" when he came to the werewolf's penis. _That_ particular part of him was _all_ man and it made Kurt's mouth water.

xoxoxo

The human was aroused...by _him?_ Wolf had trouble wrapping his mind around that. Even Human had never been found attractive by another of his species before. Why was _Wolf_ so special that a human would find _him_ worthy? Wolf had never considered the idea of taking a mate before. Why would he? Werewolves were territorial around their own kind. Besides, _Human_ would find an appropriate mate someday and if they _both_ had mates…well, there had to be something immoral in that, but Wolf really wasn't sure what it was.

But this human was _attracted_ to him. And Wolf honestly couldn't say he didn't find the human attractive. Especially his scent. As the human got more and more aroused, his scent got stronger and stronger. Wolf dropped back down to all fours and buried his nose against the human's crotch. He wanted to bask in that scent as much as possible. As he nuzzled against the strongest source of the human's scent, he could _feel_ the human becoming aroused. A timid, gentle hand stroked Wolf's head, just behind his ears. His resolve was quickly fading away. When he heard a tiny whimper of lust come from the human, his resolve shattered.

Wolf pounced.


	2. Tag

Kurt had never imagined sex could be _that good_. It had been a bit painful at first, but the things that werewolf could do with his tongue… It made Kurt shudder to think about it. Last night had been the night of the full moon, meaning he had one more night to (hopefully) spend with the werewolf before the cycle ended. If he could find the werewolf again tonight, he intended to figure out who he was. There was no reason for them to only enjoy themselves during the full moon.

But what if it had only been a one-time thing? If it had been a one-time thing, Kurt would be devastated. If this were to turn into something on-going, Kurt could convince himself that it was love at first sight; that they were both overwhelmed by the power of love, or something saccharine sweet like that. If not, if it were only a one-night stand, Kurt didn't think he would be able to convince himself that he was anything other than a common whore. He'd slept with an _animal_ after only a few _minutes_ of knowing each other. Yes, that animal was also a human (kind of), but it's not like he had ever seen the human side of him, so he really couldn't say if he were _attracted_ to the human side of him.

But it had been _so_ good. And the werewolf had been so gentle and caring with him. Well, _mostly_. Kurt smiled devilishly to himself as he wondered just how long he'd have the imprint of tree bark on his back.

Shoving a blanket into an empty bag, Kurt slinked silently from his house and into the woods bordering his back yard. The house's proximity to the Redzone was the reason the Hummel-Hudsons had been able to afford it, even after the expenses of the wedding and the expenses of private school for Kurt. No one in their right mind wanted to live so close to the Redzone.

The walk to where he had found the werewolf the previous night was a good half hour, but tonight it took a lot less time to find him.

xoxoxo

Wolf watched as, one by one, the lights flicked out in the house. It hadn't been too difficult to figure out where the human lived; when he had come out for the night, Wolf had simply gone back to where he had left the human and tracked his scent. Wolf wanted to do so many things with the human, but they only had a limited amount of time. Wolf was free to wander the woods once the sun went down, but the human didn't come out until all of the lights had gone off in the house, wasting a good three hours or so. Then, of course, Wolf had to be back home, in his cage like a good wolf, before the change came. If the change came while Wolf was outside his cage, Human would figure out he could get out of his cage and then there would be trouble. Human might try and find better ways of locking him up during the full moon.

When the human came out, Wolf stuck to the shadows, hiding behind trees and bushes. He liked mating with the human, but he wanted to play. Play-hunting was a great deal of fun to Wolf, but he'd never tested his skills against a human. Once the human was all the way in the woods, Wolf fell into step behind him, keeping as silent as possible and ducking behind trees when necessary.

xoxoxo

Kurt had the strangest sense that he was being followed, but every time he turned around, there was nothing. After about ten minutes, Kurt was starting to get creeped out at the pervasive feeling that he was being watched. Kurt stopped and closed his eyes and sucked in his breath, trying to steady his heart. The werewolf might not be a threat to him, but there were plenty of other unhumans in the Redzone that very well _could_ hurt him. It was really and truly stupid for Kurt to come out twice in a row.

xoxoxo

Uh-oh. The human was scared again. The human knew Wolf was there, but every time he had turned around, Wolf had hidden himself. But, he didn't want to scare the human. Scaring him was not part of the game. When the human stopped walking, Wolf continued on. He came up behind the human and licked a long patch of skin, from the base of the back of the human's neck to tip of his ear. The human's hand shot out, whacking him in the head like an annoying insect. Wolf took it in good stride, though. He knew from the human's heartbeat that he had startled him.

The human wheeled around, his eyes wide in fright until he realized that it was Wolf, then his expression softened into one of indulgent annoyance. "Holy crap, don't do that again! I nearly wet myself." The human reached his hand out to Wolf and stroked his face. Wolf nuzzled into the hand. He liked the human petting him. He wondered for a minute if the human would let him be like a pet to him: a pet _and_ a mate. But then he remembered another human that would never let that happen. He couldn't be with this human when the sun was out, otherwise Human would have a conniption fit. Oh, well. He'd enjoy what he could, when he could.

Now that the human was in on the game of play-hunting, Wolf bounced back onto his hind legs for a moment, licked across the human's face and bounded off farther into the woods.

xoxoxo

Kurt watched confusedly as the werewolf ran away from him. Just before it disappeared out of Kurt's sight, into the thicket of trees, it stopped, turned around, backtracked a few steps and watched Kurt expectantly. Kurt walked towards him, but stopped when he saw the werewolf duck down and then lunge at him at full speed. The werewolf stopped just before he reached Kurt and took off running into the woods again. After watching the werewolf backtrack a few more times and repeat his actions, Kurt thought maybe he'd figured out what was going on, "I'll follow you, but I'm not chasing you." The werewolf's ears lowered. He looked pitiful. "Oh, for the love of…_fine_."

The werewolf perked back up and ran off into the woods. Kurt rolled his eyes and ran after him. The creature was incredibly fast, making it difficult for Kurt to keep track of him, let alone catch up. But every now and then, the werewolf would circle back when Kurt couldn't see him and rush him from the sides, always keeping just out of Kurt's reach. Kurt had to admit, it was kind of fun. He hadn't played tag since he was a child; he'd never been very good at it, but he had loved it when he was little. The other kids rarely wanted to play with him, though, souring such childish games in his mind. But this? Letting lose when there was no one there to judge you, or call you a pansy, or a girl, or a sissy: this was fun. It was just Kurt and an overgrown mutt.

When Kurt was out of breath, he sunk down to the ground, balancing his weight on his heels.

xoxoxo

Humans obviously weren't quite as fit as deer, but the human had still done rather admirably. Wolf sauntered over to the human and sat next to him on the ground. The human was digging through a bag he had slung over his shoulder. He pulled out a large blanket, like the one Human draped over himself before and after the change so his father wouldn't see him naked. To Wolf, blankets were a stupid idea, but he understood the logic behind them. Humans had far too little fur to keep them warm; they needed all the fake fur they could get their hands on.

This human didn't drape the blanket over himself, though. He spread it out on the ground in front of him. Once the blanket was smoothed out, the human began removing his fake fur and putting it into the bag. Smart idea; the human must have gotten overheated while running with him. The human was very delicate with his coverings: undoing each button, folding each individual piece nicely, even retyping his laces before putting them in the bag. Last night the human had nearly bit his head off when Wolf tried helping him get his pants off. Apparently sharp teeth were no substitute for nimble fingers. Wolf had human-like hands, complete with opposable thumbs, but they were unused to tasks that required manual dexterity, making Wolf clumsy anytime he tried to use them as anything other than paws.

Once the human was naked, he laid down on the blanket and watched Wolf through partially closed eyes, a smile on his lips. Wolf wasn't stupid; he knew what was going on. The human must be hot and tired. Unfortunately for the human, Wolf still wanted to play. He walked a few feet away and came back with the perfect sized stick and dropped it on the blanket next to the human. The human's eyes rolled around in their sockets.

xoxoxo

Kurt wanted to be annoyed at how dense the werewolf was, he really did, but he was just so damn cute. Kurt decided to humor him for a while. He picked up the stick and tossed it as hard as he could.

After about ten minutes of fetch, Kurt decided he had to give a lot of credit to pitchers. He'd never had a dog before, had never played catch with his dad, had never done any real sports other than his short stint in football, so he'd never realized how exhausting that repetitive motion of throwing something could get. The next time the werewolf brought the stick back, Kurt placed it on the ground next to the blanket.

Cocking his head to the side, the werewolf bent down and used his nose to push the stick closer to Kurt: a not so subtle hint to throw it again. Kurt patted the blanket next to him, hoping the werewolf would pick up on _his_ not so subtle hint. He did…sort of.

The massive mound of fur stretched out beside him on the blanket, his head nuzzled against Kurt's shoulder, but did nothing more. Kurt began stroking the werewolf's fur, allowing his hand to roam wherever it pleased. It didn't take long for him to find the werewolf's penis. He stroked it a few times, feeling his own erection swell at the thought of having sex again. The moment the werewolf's heightened senses picked up on Kurt's arousal, his eyes dilated and he climbed on top of Kurt.

xoxoxo

Kurt's eyes fluttered open. The morning light blinded him. He ached all over: partially from the phenomenal sex, partially from sleeping on the hard ground all night. He and the werewolf had had sex, played some more, then had sex again. After the second go-around of sex, the unhuman curled around Kurt and snuggled against him. Kurt had talked to him for a good long while. He told him about himself, about what he enjoyed in life, what he hoped to get out of life. He was pretty certain the werewolf not only listened, but actually understood. At least, he seemed to be paying attention; he licked Kurt at appropriate times during his soliloquy. He had fallen asleep resting his head on the werewolf's chest. It was wonderful. Kurt was positive that this was the beginning of a new and better relationship for him. But then he rolled over.

He was alone.


	3. One Becomes Two

A month had passed since the last full moon. School had ended with the typical pomp and circumstance. Teachers that still maintained control of their students had end of the year tests, presentations and projects. Those who had long since lost control of their students in the waning weeks of school, had abdicated their imaginary positions of power. Kurt's own school year had fizzled out into rather unimpressive nothingness.

Today was the first night of the full moon. It would be the first time he had seen his werewolf in a month. That is, if he _wanted_ to see the werewolf. He felt like he had to see him, though. He missed the werewolf and not just the sex, either. The werewolf was sexy and fun to be around and Kurt was certain that the human part of him had to be just as good, if not better, than the wolf part. Kurt was determined to talk the werewolf into sticking around long enough for them to _talk_, not man to beast, but man to man.

xoxoxo

Wolf waited in the woods outside Kurt's house. Kurt: the human had said his name was Kurt. Wolf approved that name; it was short, simple and most important, it gave him another way to think of him than simply "this human," or "the smaller human" or "fruit basket-scented, scarred-rabbit human."

Wolf waited in the silence of the shadows. Starting at about ten o'clock, one by one, the lights flickered out. Around 11:30, the final light went dark. Moments later, the back patio light came on and Kurt slipped into the night. When Kurt had passed the tree line, Wolf followed him for a few minutes before padding up alongside him and rubbing his flank against Kurt's side.

"You're here. Good." Kurt sounded surprised, though Wolf couldn't fathom why. "The way you left so suddenly last time, I thought maybe you were done with me." Wolf licked at Kurt's hand, trying to be as comforting as he could. How he wished he could make this easy for them both. "Before this goes any further, I need to know. Do you _like_ me? Or is this just about the sex?" Wolf cocked his head to the side. The sex was _great_, but he liked Kurt too. He felt drawn to Kurt: connected to him somehow, as though they had known each other for years.

Hoping to get his affection towards Kurt out in the open, Wolf, reared back on his hind legs and began furiously grooming Kurt's face. "Stop." Kurt turned his head away from Wolf's licks. _"Stop"_ Kurt pushed at his chest. Wolf could easily overpower him if he wanted and keep licking him, but he relented and stepped back from Kurt, swiping his tongue over Kurt's face one more time for good measure. "Do you _want_ to be my boyfriend?"

Boyfriend? Boyfriend means mate. Mate! Wolf started vibrating he was wagging his tail so vigorously. "So that means 'yes?'" Despite Kurt's earlier protests, Wolf licked at Kurt's face again. "If you and I are going to date, I _need_ you to stick around once in a while. I want to know you as a person."

xoxoxo

The werewolf whimpered, lowering his ears. It was obvious the unhuman was sad about what Kurt had said, but there were any number of reasons that could be the case? Kurt went with what he assumed was the most likely. "Are you in the closet?"

It stared for a few minutes, not looking at Kurt, but not looking at anything else, either. Kurt didn't know what the creature was thinking about, but if he had, he would have been shocked to see the wolf's mind cycling through the sparse memories it had as a human. An imagine of an intense, tan woman with dark hair and scary nails threatening the Human with talks about closets and being forced out of one. An image of the Human staring into a closet, looking at the thick, sturdy beam that ran through it, a heaviness in his chest. He had no idea if the Human was in the closet. He didn't quite understand what that meant, but he would guess 'yes' if pressed to.

The werewolf didn't respond, but he didn't look guilty, so it probably wasn't that. "Do you have another boyfriend?" The werewolf immediately shook his head. Kurt raised an eyebrow. He could answer yes/no questions; that should make things interesting. "Are you too embarrassed for people to know we're together?" Again, the werewolf shook his head. Kurt was running out of yes/no questions to ask him, so he settled for something broad. "Is there a _good_ reason you can't be with me outside of the full moon?" The werewolf leaned in closer to him; Kurt braced himself, expecting to get slobbered on again. Instead, he felt the heavy weight of a forehead pressed against his. "I'll trust you, for now. But someday, I'll need to know _you_, not just the wolf."

xoxoxo

Each night was the same; Kurt would meet up with the werewolf (who he found out actually liked being called 'Wolf' through a very long game of "Does your name begin with the letter 'A'? Does your name begin with the letter 'B'? Does your name begin with the letter 'C'?"), they would talk, they would play, they would have sex (often many times a night) and Kurt would wake up alone in the morning. During the full moon, it was a great deal; Wolf was a very attentive, loving, caring boyfriend. But, once the full moon was over, Kurt was lonely.

And then things got strange. About a week after Kurt's second full moon with Wolf, he started feeling strange. The tiniest things started making him sad to the point of bawling his eyes out. And not just Sarah McLachlan SPCA commercials. Then his sexy-pants became un-wearable, they were so tight. Then his normal pants. By the time the third full moon came around, everyone in the Hummel-Hudson household was carefully sidestepping the elephant in the room.

xoxoxo

Kurt waited on the back porch as the sun slowly set over the woods in the backyard. It was strange how the light changed as the sun set; sometimes, it felt like it was rapidly getting darker, sometimes it felt as though there were no change in the light. Eventually though, Kurt realized the sun was completely down and had been for some time. He could see Wolf slinking through the bushes that littered the tree line. He seemed to be pacing: agitated that Kurt wasn't coming out to meet him.

Kurt still needed a little bit of time to collect his thoughts. How would Wolf react? Would Wolf be excited? Or would he abandon him? Kurt felt like throwing up and not just from the intermittent nausea he'd been feeling the past week.

xoxoxo

Why isn't he coming? Come _on,_ Kurt! We need to _run_. Run, run, _run! _Several times he made eye contact with him and he could see his eyes following him as he moved, so he _knew_ Kurt knew he was here. But why didn't Kurt _come?_ Wolf stuck his head out of the safety of the trees. A single paw followed after but Wolf quickly pulled back into the shadows: recoiling as though he'd been burned. Out in the open was a dangerous place for werewolves to be. Outside of the safety of the Redzone, there were few laws to protect Wolf from violent and scary people that didn't like unhumans.

After what felt like hours, Kurt pushed himself up off the patio steps and walked towards the trees. His shoulders were slumped, but otherwise, he seemed fine. Wolf continued to pace back and forth. The moment Kurt penetrated the woods, Wolf made to lunge at him, but Kurt held up a single hand, stopping Wolf in his tracks. "I need to show you something." Wolf sat back on his haunches, wagging his tail slowly. Kurt slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Unusually, Kurt wore nothing beneath his button-down shirt. Kurt was generally dressed in layer after layer of clothing, teaching Wolf a lot about patience when he was waiting for Kurt to get naked. When Kurt's torso was bared, Wolf could clearly see his mate had put on some weight. Rather than being flat, his stomach bulged slightly.

"I'm pregnant." Not understanding, Wolf leaned forward and sniffed at his mate's stomach. The more he sniffed, the more he realized Kurt's scent was off. Not the fruity soft smells that covered Kurt's scent, but Kurt's scent itself. It was less musky. He couldn't really describe the scent all that well; it wasn't a scent he'd come to associate with Kurt. "It's yours." Wolf still wasn't sure what Kurt was talking about, so he let him talk as he continued to sniff. "We're going to be fathers." Wolf started and backed up to look at Kurt.

Fathers. Was that what pregnant was? Was that what that smell was? His mate had a baby in him. A werepup. This was the most amazing thing he'd ever imagined!

Except…

The Human would be furious if he found out. The Human _hated_ werewolves. The Human dreamed of _hurting_ werewolves. The Human celebrated those that slaughtered werewolves and wanted to be one of those people himself. It was easier for Wolf to see things in the Human's memories when they were related to Wolf or to werewolves or from when they were One instead of Two. He remembered Human watching something on the television. There were images of other humans, humans with guns and knifes and cattle prods, torturing a werewolf. They hurt him bad; his howls and whines and whimpers still rang in Wolf's ears. Wolf didn't know what that wolf had done to deserve such a fate, but Human didn't care; all werewolves deserved that fate to Human.

Wolf whimpered. How could he protect his mate from his Human?

xoxoxo

The sun would be up in not too long. He and Kurt had been up all night together. Wolf was almost nervous he wouldn't be in his cage before the change. That would just make things even worse. He padded softly down the stairs and headed for the large metal box Human locked himself in three times a month. Human's father waited nearby, getting up to shut the basement door after Wolf. Wolf brushed his head against Human's father's hand, getting a gentle pet as he did so. It was hard for him to think of Human's father as his _own_ father. He wasn't even certain if Human's father cared for him at all or simply tolerated the monster his son became during the time of the full moon.

Besides, there was another one he thought of as his father. Human had a human father; Wolf had a Wolf father.

_Seven years earlier_

The change hadn't been painful, though maybe he was too traumatized to register the feeling of his bones growing and realigning, fur sprouting from his pores, his organs shifting. All he could focus on right now was his mental pain and the uncontrollable anger. He wanted to rip and tear and shred and destroy.

The forest floor felt strange under his paws and he was loathe to admit it, not entirely unpleasant. The pads on his paws were thick and hard, making it easy to traverse broken branches, thorns and nettles. He wasn't sure where he was going, but his feet and nose seemed to know, so he trusted them, as disgusted as it made him.

After hours of travelling, he had passed out of the Redzone and into a "Crisis zone". "Crisis Zone" was one of those strange buzzwords that goes years without usage and then all of a sudden is uttered on the lips of every man, woman and child that watches the news. A Redzone, everyone knew, was a part-time habitat for unhumans. A Crisis Zone was an area where some unhuman had decided to ignore the Redzones: a place where an unhuman killed when and what it wanted. Usually humans.

He had left his home behind several hours ago, trying to find something he couldn't quite name: something he knew he would know when he found it. And he did. He was in the middle of a deep, foreboding forest, at least half an hour from a road in any direction. But here, far away from society, was a lone man, lying in a lawn chair not a dozen yards from a corrugated aluminum shed. He smelled like fresh dirt and metal.

Before the newly created werewolf could even gather his bearings, he had erupted from the bushes and dove at the man, ripping and tearing and shredding and destroying.

Hours later, as he limped, exhausted, back to his home, the change came again. It would be the second most significant change he underwent. As the wolf turned back into a human, One became Two. The Human couldn't understand, and didn't _want_ to understand the horrors it had committed that night, so he forever separated his mind from that _other_ part of himself. Wolf accepted the separation of the two; part of him understood that if the Human couldn't push down that part of himself, deep, deep down into an inaccessible part of his mind, it would destroy him. Or, alternatively, he would intentionally destroy himself.

Ten-year-old David Karofsky was completely oblivious to the fact that he was naked as he trudged through the backyard to his house. All he knew, all he could focus on, was the fact that he had _killed_ someone: someone he didn't know, someone he'd never seen before.

And he'd _liked_ it.

Well, perhaps 'like' wasn't the right word. It wasn't pleasurable; not like ice cream or a game of football. It was more like that sense of relief that came when a long school project was finally finished and handed in. He felt _relieved_.

…and filthy and disgusting and evil.

There was a light on the lawn, moving slowly back and forth. Over the pounding of his heart in his ears he could hear a voice. He knew that voice. _Dad_. "David!" His father came running towards him. David stopped walking, too numb inside to move anymore. His dad dropped to his knees and grabbed David's elbow, looking his son over, a look of horror in his eyes. "David? What happened?"

David chewed on his lips to try and stop the tears from coming. "I can taste him in my stomach." With that, David fainted.


	4. Special Edition

"I just don't get why he can't be there for you. Yeah, he's got the whole 'werewolf thing' going on, but how hard would it be for him to come over some morning, knock on the door like a _normal_ person, stick his hand out and say 'Hi, I'm so-and-so. It's nice to finally meet you in _person_.'"

Kurt resented the way his father emphasized "person" and "normal," but let it go. He just wanted to gather what he needed for school and get going. Today would be long enough without his father giving him another lecture on Wolf. "He _can't,_ Dad. He doesn't even know. At least the human doesn't." Burt raised an eyebrow at his boy. "I've done some homework on werewolves and –"

"Don't you think you should have done that _before_ you two hooked up?"

Kurt grit his teeth to keep his jaw from shaking. He was hormonal, exhausted, knew full well what a horrible first day of school he was likely going to have and he didn't need his father riding his ass like this. "Werewolves make up the largest percentage of people with Dissociative Identity Disorder. He _can't_ come see me as a human because his human half doesn't _know_ me."

"Dis- what?"

Kurt sighed. "Dissociative Identity Disorder happens in werewolves when the two parts – the human and the wolf – just can't cope with each other, so the two become completely separate…like there's a wall between his memories as a human and his memories as a wolf." Burt Hummel still looked confused; not "since when does math have imaginary numbers?" confused, but more along the lines of "that is the dumbest thing I've ever heard of" confused. "It's like there are two people sharing the same body but they can't talk to one another, see one another…they don't even know one another. It's sometimes called Multiple Personality Disorder."

"Oh, great. So he's a schizo."

"He's _not_ schizophrenic. Schizophrenia is something _completely_ different. D.I.D. is just a way to cope with something traumatic. It's like…it's like the two halves of his brain block each other out because the other one is seen as being too scary; like when some victims of tragedy have a memory blackout."

Burt Hummel shook his head. Kurt doubted any of what he'd said to his father sunk in. Anything other than "my boyfriend and soon-to-be father of my first born child is mentally unstable and insane." So, taking his leave of the argument, Kurt grabbed his satchel and headed off for his first day back at school.

xoxoxo

"Oh…my…_god_. Boy, how the hell did you get so big in one week?" Mercedes made a half-hearted attempt to hug her best friend but gave up when his stomach got in the way. Naturally, all of New Directions already knew about his state_, _and the rest of Lima had more or less found out by now as well. The entire town was stocked full of gossips, busybodies and little old yentas. "You look like you're going to pop any minute."

Mercedes, unsurprisingly, was one of the least judgmental of his friends when it came to his pregnancy. The guys were all a bit freaked out about it; Tina, with her fascination in the occult was supportive, but not in the right way, more of a fan-girlish way; Rachel thought of Kurt's pregnancy as more of a political statement or liberation rally of some kind than opposed to a simple pregnancy; Santana was a bit snide about the whole thing; Brittany was well-meaning but occasionally said or insinuated some truly insulting things (mostly about Kurt's sex life) and, surprisingly, Quinn was being very hypocritical about Kurt's state. She refused to acknowledge that her getting drunk and knocked up by Puck bore any semblance to Kurt sleeping with a "demon" and getting knocked up. "Werewolves have much shorter gestation periods than human babies. My due date should be about three months from conception, so I should give birth on or around September twelfth."

"Are you excited?"

Kurt fidgeted with the straps of his bag as he looked around the hallway and eyed up the other students. So many looks of disgust, hate, curiosity, sympathy, fear. Why was is so hard for people to just be happy for him? "Nervous, more than anything. My dad and Carol have promised to support me through all this, but there's still _so_ much to worry about. The baby is _not_ going to be normal; how do I cope with that? I don't know anything about taking care of human babies – I've never babysat – what do I know about werewolf babies?"

Mercedes stroked Kurt's arm affectionately, trying to calm and sooth him. "I think you should talk to someone. I know she's not a lot of help, but Ms. Pillsbury is a good listener."

Kurt nodded. "You're right." As he continued walking with Mercedes through the hall, he kept his watch on the other students. There, at the end of the hall, in a shiny red sports jacket – sans beret – was David Karofsky. He looked like he was stapling up posters on the bulletin board: sign-ups for the Bully Whips? Seemingly sensing Kurt's gaze, David glanced up and caught Kurt's eye. There was the briefest of smiles before David got a good look at Kurt. His smile momentarily morphed into a sneer and then softened into a look of pain. David folded his stapler over and turned down the hall, walking away from Kurt, the upper left-hand corner of the poster still unstapled and curling away from the wall.

xoxoxo

"I'm really glad you came to see me Kurt." Ms. Pillsbury was busy straightening her pamphlets. "When the Divorce is Your Fault," "Adoption and Siblings: Mommy may have _had_ you, but she chose me," and "Marijuana: The Grass Isn't Always Greener" were some of the new pamphlets the guidance counselor had on display for the new school year. "When I heard of your… _condition_ I took the liberty of ordering a series of books that might be helpful for yourself and other students in similar… _conditions_." Her eyes were unnaturally large, her voice too perky, her smile too plastic. Kurt couldn't decide if she were faking her excitement on his behalf or if she'd finally sniffed too much cleaning fluid, giving herself a permanent high. She leaned over to get something under her desk and came back up holding an Amazon box that had already been opened. Placing it on the desk, she rifled through it for a moment before finding what she was looking for. "Ah!" She placed a book on the desk in front of Kurt.

He looked down at it, taking in the flowery cover with a pregnant woman on it and then the title, "What to Expect When You're Expecting: The Vampire Edition." Kurt winced; most the kids in glee club had mistaken Blaine for the father, as well. "Thank you Ms. Pillsbury, but the baby's not a vampire."

Her smile twitched. "I was under the impression that the children of unhumans almost _always_ carry their unhuman parent's unique characteristics."

Kurt slid the book back to Ms. Pillsbury. "I'm sure you're probably right. But the baby's not a vampire."

"But Blaine –"

"Isn't the father." The guidance counselor's expression changed to one of confusion: her eyebrows scrunched together, her eyes narrowed in silent contemplation. "The baby's father is a werewolf. I met him in the Redzone and we slept together." Ms. Pillsbury blushed; Kurt didn't feel bad for embarrassing her. The sooner he could desensitize people to the fact that he had had sex with a werewolf, the sooner they could get over it. "A lot." She got even redder and started shuffling through the books. Kurt thought she was just fidgeting until she came up with another book.

"Good thing I got the whole set, huh?"

She passed him the book. This one had an identical cover, save three words: _The Werewolf Edition_.


	5. Seeing Red

It was getting progressively harder to go to school each day. Bully Whips had cost him most of his friends; the prank at prom had led to plenty of hushed jokes at David's expense (though no one actually believed David _was_ gay. It was just fun to make fun of the school's biggest bully-turned NARC) and now this thing with Kurt. His one saving grace was that he and Kurt had absolutely no overlapping aptitudes; they had no classes together.

That first day, seeing Kurt in the full throes of late pregnancy, had broken something inside of him. He couldn't deny it anymore; he _liked_ Kurt. Not just as a mentor or a friend. There was something about Kurt that made Dave feel light headed and heavy chested. But Kurt had gotten his wish; he had won his prince and whether Blaine liked it or not, he was stuck with Kurt. Even if Kurt and Blaine eventually split, they would still be bound for the next eighteen years by dint of their child.

With his favorite class – Calculus II – over for the day, the rest of the day was looking bleak. He didn't even look forward to football practice. He didn't really _care_ all that much for sports; the exercise was the only reason he stuck with football. Exercising solo was hit or miss; sometimes the excuses _not_ to exercise were more enticing than the reasons _to_ exercise. Organized sports worked well through peer pressure; if he wasn't pulling his weight, everyone rode his ass and harassed him about it. If he didn't show up, everyone rode his ass and harassed him about it. He needed to stay in shape though. His future career depended on it.

xoxoxo

He _really_ hated people sometimes. They were judgmental, cruel, prejudiced, you name it. Sometimes Kurt thought teenage boys were the ones who should be registered with the Bureau of Human Subspecies and confined to Redzones when they were in one of their asshole modes.

As it was, teenage boys were the ones society considered normal; their actions were generally justified as "boys will be boys." How did people not realize that the idiom led to the issue, not the other way around?

Kurt's back hit the lockers again. This time a combination lock hit him just below the shoulder blade. He tried not to grunt too loudly; he didn't want them to get the satisfaction of hearing him in pain.

"Just a goddamned whore. You suck him off while he sucked your blood?"

Kurt braced himself as they shoved against him again. "Clever; you Google that all on your own?" He landed on the floor with an unceremonious "oomph." One of the jocks pulled his leg back, making to kick Kurt as he laid on the floor. Kurt curled in on himself: his knees pulled up against his stomach, his arms wrapped around his midsection. Normally, he'd wrap his arms around his head, but he couldn't afford to leave his stomach exposed in any way. There was a loud thump, but nothing struck Kurt. Even still, he pulled in tighter on himself, curling up like an armadillo.

xoxoxo

David saw red. He had never thought of the saying as being literal, but he really did seem to see red. If he were thinking logically at the moment he'd assume it had something to do with the adrenaline causing an increase in blood flow causing the hemoglobin near his corneas to become visible. Or perhaps it was a form of synesthesia; when something in the brain short circuits causing senses to become mixed up. Or perhaps the saying was just so ingrained into the cultural language that his perception of a red-tinged world was psychosomatic. Either way, like an angry bull, he saw red and charged. It was like something primal in him had been unleashed. The only thing he cared about right now was protecting Kurt, protecting Kurt's baby and throttling the two jocks shoving him around.

He tackled the one about to kick Kurt. He couldn't begin to control himself as he pulled back his fist and just startled pummeling. He wouldn't have stopped if the second jock hadn't pulled him off. Instead of retaliating though, the second jock grabbed his fallen comrade by the arm, pulled him up and the two fled down the hall. David probably would have chased after them if Kurt hadn't chosen that moment to peek out and murmur "Dave?"

That tiny little voice pulled Dave back to himself. It was like he had been having an out of body experience: completely out of control and just _watching_ from somewhere else as he acted. Kurt's voice anchored him, though. "Are you ok?"

Kurt slowly unfolded and pushed himself into a sitting position. His eyes were wide and slightly panicked. "I think…I think my water broke."

Now David's eyes went wide. He looked Kurt over; sure enough, Kurt's pants were wet. Either his water had broken or he'd pissed himself during the fight…not that David could blame him if it were the latter. "Ok…um…ok. Let's get you to the nurse." David placed one arm under Kurt's knees, the other under his arms and picked him up as he stood.

"_No!_ Not the nurse, _please!" _One of Kurt's arms was slung around David's neck and David could feel it grip tightly at him.

"You need _help,_ Kurt."

"Not the nurse. She'll make me go to the hospital. _Bad_ things happen to unhumans at the hospital."

David stopped short. He had been headed in a straight line towards the nurse's office, but Kurt was right. Everyone knew it; no one denied it. Unhumans that went to the hospital were three times more likely to not come out than normal people. What better time to destroy the creatures than when they were already weak and vulnerable? Unhuman babies were especially susceptible to fatality at hospitals. It was so easy for something to go "wrong": there would be no inquest. Even if there were, the investigation would get buried under more "priority" cases or completely tossed out. "Ok…so what do we do?"

"Behind the stage, there's a costume room back there. It's quiet and away from everyone else. I can do this on my own."

Trust Kurt to be stubborn and think he didn't need anyone else. "You _can't_ do this alone. I'll help." _Where the hell had that come from?_

Kurt chuckled softly before grabbing his stomach and wincing. When the contraction had passed, Kurt mumbled quietly, "You really _were_ a boy scout, weren't you?"

"Never wanted to give it up." They kind of frown on scouts that turn into hairy, snarling monsters during camp-outs, though. In the costume room, there was an old couch and a plastic chair. David placed Kurt in the plastic chair and ripped the cushions off the couch. He placed the cushions side by side on the floor. There were a few bolts of fabric on a shelf nearby. He took down a roll of pale green cotton. It was similar to the mint-green that surgeons often wore. David unrolled a few yards over the cushion, trying his best to focus on what he was doing, rather than delay things by stopping every time Kurt groaned in pain: as tempting as it was to hold him and comfort him. David tore the fabric and then ripped off another few yards to cover Kurt. He'd seen this done in movies and television shows, but had never paid too much attention. He remembered the birthing scene in _Farewell to Arms_, the last book he'd read…he wished Hemingway had been as long-winded describing the birth as he was talking about alcohol. "I'm pretty sure the sheets are supposed to be boiled and sterilized," (they always said that in movies, didn't they? 'Go boil some white sheets') "But we're going to have to make due."

David scooped Kurt back up and placed him gently on top of the cushions. Kurt was already struggling out of his pants as David covered him with the second sheet. David did his best to avert his eyes. "Thank you, David."

David wasn't sure if Kurt was thanking him for not staring at him, for helping him, for being there or what. So rather than respond, he asked the question that had been driving him nuts since he found out Kurt was pregnant. "I'm sure this is tactless of me to ask…but will the baby be _born_ craving blood?"

Kurt groaned. Not in pain, but exasperation. "Blaine isn't the father; the baby's not a vampire."

David narrowed his eyes, "Then what…?"

"The baby is a werewolf."

Pain shot through David's heart. Of all the disgusting, filthy, horrible, evil creatures for Kurt to sleep with…David _hated_ werewolves.

_Seven years earlier_

David was falling asleep in the backseat of his mother's Corolla. It was getting late; it had to be at least nine at night. The sun was setting earlier and earlier as the fall turned to winter. His mother was driving him back from the movies. It was a monthly thing with him and his mom. He and his dad had sports, he and his mom had movies, the three of them had scouts.

"What the?" His mother pulled the car over to the side of the road. "Don't move, sweety. Someone's on the side of the road…I think it's a hit and run."

Yeah right, like David wouldn't go to look. David undid his seatbelt, pushed the door open about a foot and poked his head out, looking through the window to see a man lying in the gutter on the side of the road. His mother kneeled over the man, pulling out her cell phone, as she looked him over. She was probably going to call dad. Dad was a doctor; he'd tell her what to do.

The man's arm shot out and grabbed at his mom. David fell out of the car he moved so fast, but froze when the man started to change. His arms got longer, his shoulders got bigger and his face _warped_. It stretched and pulled in strange ways. His skin got darker…no, not his _skin_. He was growing _fur_.

David was in shock. He couldn't move, could barely _think_. His mother let out a choked gurgling; the beast had its clawed paw wrapped around her neck. It slammed her into the ground, silencing the sounds of pain coming from her. It rolled on top of her and began biting and clawing at her. All too soon, his mother was quiet and had stopped struggling. As it occurred to David that his mother was dead, an animal like squeal came from David. It wasn't a cry, wasn't a scream, but it was enough to get the monster's attention. It looked up from its kill...David couldn't think of that lifeless body as his mother; that would make it too real. Something David vaguely recognized as entrails hung from its mouth as it met David's eyes with its own. Growling, it dropped the bloody viscera.

It lunged at him, faster than anything David had ever seen before. David crawled back into the car, trying to pull the door closed behind him. He could feel sharp, thick teeth digging into his calf. He kicked blindly with his free leg and found purchase against the creature's nose, stunning it long enough to release its grip on David. David moved to the far side of the car; the werewolf was too large, too broad to fit in through the door. David pulled the little knob at the top of the seat and felt the seat collapse forward. Half crawling, have dragging himself, David clambered into the trunk and pulled the seat back into the upright locked position. He huddled in the dark, crying as the werewolf pounded and scratched at the hood of the trunk.

_Presently_

Blood. So much blood. But it was done. David held a furry, wet ball of slime in his hands. Kurt looked on the verge of passing out; he was drenched in sweat, his normally perfectly coiffed hair lying in disarray against his forehead. He was flushed with the effort of pushing and panted as he recovered from the excursion. The baby was a disgusting mess to David, even if it hadn't been an unholy hell-spawn, but Kurt looked at it like the most precious thing he had ever seen. David handed over Kurt's baby. "Congratulations…I have no idea what gender it is." Kurt happily took his baby from David and cuddled it against his cheek, kissing the top of its head without any care as to how gross it was. David grit his teeth seeing that kind of affection for the werewolf pup, but said nothing.

He hated werewolves, but he _loved_ Kurt.


	6. Father and Son

David ghosted his hands over each item in his prized collection, proudly displayed in the containment room. Aside from the large steel cage, they were some of the only things to be found in the basement. It had begun as a practical investment by Paul: several weapons guaranteed to stun and incapacitate a werewolf. David had taken the liberty of expanding the collection to incorporate other weapons used against other unhumans. He wasn't a fool; he hadn't deluded himself into believing werewolves were the only unhumans that yearned to maim and kill innocent people.

He had spent six years snatching up every weapon used against unhumans he could get his hands on: everything from the impractical, yet traditional, to the modern and efficient. His oldest piece was a length of hemp rope from the late seventeenth century that had _actually_ been used to hang a witch. His favorite piece was a highly decorated Molotov cocktail jar similar to the ones sold in nineteenth century Walachia to flush out vampires from their lairs. His newest acquisition was a special rifle that used armor-piercing rounds with incendiary tips, used for ripping through the thick hides of werewolves. He desperately wanted to acquire some silver bullets, but they were generally reserved for the slayer units of law enforcement and of the FBI. But, even if David could acquire some, he wouldn't be able to touch them; so much as grazing against silver burned him like a branding iron. It was a werewolf's Achilles' heal. A bullet made from silver, successfully lodged in a werewolf, would provide a slow painful death for the creature; the silver would immediately start burning everything it touched in the werewolf, the werewolf's extremely powerful immune system would send everything it had after the silver, breaking it down into microscopic particles, trying to eradicate it – trying and _failing_. From there, the silver would enter into the werewolf's bloodstream and quickly find itself everywhere in the unhuman's body, sending it into shock and eventual death.

The stairs creaked behind him; he didn't have to look up to know it was his father; they lived alone and never really had company. Before his mother's death, people came over all the time. His parents had been very sociable and David of course had friends from cub scouts and peewee football and peewee hockey and peewee soccer. All of that changed after his mother's death. Paul and David cut themselves off from family and friends. The only one who even tried to squeeze into the private world of David Karofsky was Azimio, but that had changed since the Bully Whips started up. Not like David cared. "How was school?"

David shrugged. He didn't feel like telling his father that he had helped bring another people-eater into the world. His father was very unpredictable on the subject; sometimes he would try and tell David that they were "just people;" sometimes he would rail against the government for not doing more about them, more to protect people from them. David _did_ want to talk to his father about what had happened at school today…he just wasn't sure _how_, so he skirted around the question he had in his mind _What would __**you**__ have done_? And instead asked "Do you remember the first time you did anything…doctor-ish?"

Paul snorted at David's inelegant phrasing of the question. "Aside from the odd bandage here or there, I would have to say it was the time I had to sling your uncle Michael's arm with my blouse when he fell out of the tree. It wasn't too bad, just sprained, but from the way he was whining about it I could have sworn it was dislocated or broken."

David nodded. He vaguely remembered his uncle Michael, but, like the rest of their family, he had been pushed away to the point that contact was almost nonexistent. "What was your worst procedure?"

"The one I botched the worst or the one that was the hardest?" Paul sat down in an old, worn La-Z-Boy recliner kept opposite the cage. His father would sit with him during the change to make sure everything was all right.

"The one that was hardest." David flipped an old farming ax over in his hands, debating for the thousandth time whether he should polish it, or leave it in its original, rusty and dull condition. It had supposedly been used during the great zombie outbreak in Savannah, Georgia in the early 1920s, though its paperwork was suspect. From the corner of his eye, David saw how his father was eyeing the ax, a look of distaste clear as day. His dad didn't care for David's collection; Paul explained away his own additions to the collection as "utilitarian"; David's additions bordered on perverse.

When David had placed the ax back in its proper display case, Paul spoke. "There were a few truly horrific cases I've seen. I mostly do paperwork now, nothing too horrible, but back when I was a surgeon in the intensive care unit, I saw every nightmare you could imagine. There are a few cases I could say tie for second, but the _single_ worst case I ever had to deal with was stitching up my own son from a werewolf attack."

_Seven years earlier_

Nancy's call had gone through successfully to Paul, but all Paul had heard was crying and the occasional yelp of pain. Of course it had sent him into a panic. He immediately called everyone he knew who could help: police, fireman, even EMTs. Anyone who could tell him of any car accidents, muggings, reported gunshots, anything that could help. He knew Nancy and David should have been on their way home from the movie theatres, so the police were able to follow the most likely routes between his home and the theatre. Half an hour after he had called the last person he could think of, he got a call.

There were already three police cruisers there by the time Paul arrived along with an ambulance. All of the red and blue lights practically blinded Paul in the darkness of the otherwise unlit road. They had erected a roadblock, but Paul, knowing individuals in nearly every public service department, had gotten through quickly. Almost forgetting to throw his car into park, he jumped out and immediately went towards the small cluster of officers. "My wife? My son?"

One of the officers he knew, a man he had gone to school with as a boy, placed his hand on Paul's shoulder. "Dr. Karofsky, we're doing everything we can to find them. But, there's not much we can do until the slayer unit arrives though."

"Find them? Where have they gone? Slayer unit?" Paul was too dizzy to think. He knew he knew all of the words the officer was saying, but his mind couldn't quite translate them in a way that made sense: a way that answered more questions than it asked.

"We think they may have been taken by an unhuman of some kind." The officer tried to look Paul in the eye, to calm him with a sense of authority, but Paul's eyes were drawn over his right shoulder. There were three officers standing there, shoulder-to-shoulder, watching Paul as he watched them. His mind couldn't process words all that well, but it could process actions. They were forming a human barricade, something to keep Paul from passing them, or seeing what was behind them.

Paul shoved past the officer that had been talking to him and continued to talk: words that Paul was deaf to and couldn't really process even if he _did_ hear them. All he could hear was the pounding of the blood in his ears. The small barricade of officers moved aside for Paul with only the slightest hesitation. He saw what they hadn't wanted him to see: blood. So much blood. Most of it pooled together in a purplish puddle, but some of it smeared off towards the woods. He had seen enough blood throughout his years to know everything you could ever want to know about it; how it travels through the body, how it clots, how far it could spurt from a pierced vein or artery, how much a full grown man could live without.

_How much a woman and young child could live without._ He said the words before he could even comprehend what they meant. "They're dead. No one…" His voice broke as he choked on the words. "No one could live with that much blood loss."

"It might not be from just _one_ person." One of the officers came to stand beside Paul. "There may have been a struggle."

"Not just one person. Both of them: my wife and son."

"We haven't found the bodies yet, Paul. There's still hope."

Paul had already given up hope. Part of him had given up hope when he realized it was his wife _dying_ on the phone that he had heard. "Six months: fourteen missing and dead people in six months. Not a single body recovered. There's no 'hope'. Not for me, not for anyone." A woman from the ambulance took Paul's hand and led him away from carnage. Away from his vehicle as well, he realized. _They'll want to take me in, to get me counseling,_ Paul thought. It was one of the not-for-profit programs the hospital ran. They had crisis counseling for everything: rape, murder, divorce, death, suicide. You name it.

As they passed the rear of Nancy's vehicle, Paul absent-mindedly ran his fingers over a long gash in the hood of the trunk. He didn't look at the gashes, but could "see" them through his fingertips. Wide, blunt. Most unhumans with claws had sharp claws, like razors or a cat's claws. Not blunt and wide. That narrowed it down significantly. It had to be a werewolf. As he finished passing by the car, his fingers slid off the end of the trunk. Paul stopped short, nearly tripping the young woman that had been leading him by his other hand. Claw marks…why claw marks? Why on the trunk? One of them – his wife at the very least – had been killed by the hood of the car on the driver's side. Both of the driver's side doors were open. The werewolf could easily get at anything – _anyone_ – inside the vehicle. Except the trunk. What was in the trunk? Paul turned to face his one last chance at hope, fumbling with his own car keys as he did so. Nancy's spare keys were on his key ring somewhere. As he found the correct key, he could faintly here a voice say his name, "Dr. Karofsky?" It sounded miles away, even though the speaker was just feet away. He unlatched the trunk.

There, at the back of the trunk, buried behind a duffle bag, a miscellaneous shopping Nancy had never brought inside, a coil of bungee cords, and other miscellaneous debris, was a small, cowering child. "David." Paul reached into the trunk, tearing his shirt on a pair of ice skates as he did so. He didn't care; he just had to get to his son. If he could reach David, touch him, hold him, then he could have hope again. He pulled David from the trunk to the shocked gasps of the people around him. David latched onto his father, terrified of letting him go. A tiny little voice whimpered in Paul's ear. "Mom's dead."

"I know."

"It bit me."

Paul tensed up. "Tell no one. I'm not losing you, too." David just nodded against his father's neck. Paul turned away from the ambulance and headed back to his own car. One of the officers said something about the hospital, about David needing a doctor. "I _am_ a doctor. I'm taking him home. He's been through enough."

xoxoxo

The bite wasn't so bad; it only needed two stitches. The rest of the bite had barely pierced the skin. Did the size of the bite matter with a werewolf bite? How was the curse passed on, anyway? Was it blood to blood, like AIDS? Was it saliva to blood, like rabies? Was any bodily fluid acceptable? Unhumans weren't studied in medical school; who cared about them? There wasn't much bleeding though; that had to be good, right?

David had been quiet the entire time Paul was cleaning the area and stitching it up. He stared blankly ahead: jumping slightly each time the needle pierced his skin. "You can't tell anyone it bit you, all right?" David nodded. "If anyone sees the cut you tell them…" Paul thought about his shirt snagging on the ice skate. "You tell them you stabbed yourself on an ice skate getting in the trunk." David nodded, again. "David, please…_say_ something?"

"Am I gonna turn into that _thing_?" Paul didn't know how to respond.

_The Present_

"So what's with all the questions?" Paul quirked a halfhearted smile. "You finally giving up on this slayer-crap? Thinking of becoming a doctor?"

David snorted derisively. "Yeah, that'll be the day. Nope. You guys get stuck helping everyone that comes your way, whether they deserve your help or not. I'm gonna take care of the ones that _don't_ deserve your help, the ones that _send_ patients your way."

Paul shook his head as he stood from the chair. He had been talking to David for years about him becoming a doctor. Before Nancy's death, all David had wanted to do was help people, after Nancy's death…not so much. "One of these days you'll figure it out David; it isn't what you _are_, it's what you _do_."


	7. PillowPet

**Guess who the Fic picture is supposed to be a picture of? The baby's obviously not THAT old yet, but it's still cute eye-candy.**

xoxoxo

Mr. Hummel looked him over appraisingly for a moment or so before grudgingly standing aside to let him in. "Kurt's in his room. It's upstairs on the left." David nodded at him and scooted past, still bracing himself for the punch he was certain would come at any moment. Surely Mr. Hummel recognized him as the boy that had terrorized his son? Or had Kurt told his father who it was that had helped with the delivery? David wasn't sure why, but he didn't really want people to know that it was him that had helped Kurt.

David shuffled the gifts around in his hands until he had a free fist for knocking. Two soft taps on the door later and Kurt's voice was beckoning him in. Kurt's room wasn't quite what David had expected. It was very simple; the walls were white and surprisingly bare (no Cosmo covers framed all over the place as David had expected), the bed spread was a warm red with white pillows (instead of some frou-frou flowery pattern), only one or two stuffed animals that David could see. The only thing that was as David had pictured was the vanity off in a little alcove to the right of Kurt's bed (a walk-in closet?). Kurt was lying on his side in bed, his arm curled over one of those pillow pet things. There was a crib at the foot of the bed, but no slimy little ball of fur like David had expected. He couldn't even _find_ the baby as he looked around the room.

Until he noticed the pillow pet was _alive_. Its little head was moving around, weakly, sniffling at the air.

Goddamn evolution.

In what way was that fair? Panda bears, tigers, chimps: all adorable. And all more than happy to rip you limb from limb if they felt like it. Dolphins, one of the most beautiful, majestic creatures in the sea was known to marine biologists as being as cruel as humans; raping and killing for their own personal pleasure. Even the freakin' platypus, nature's most adorable nerd, had a poisonous spur. David was prepared for the baby to be a disgusting, snarling, vicious little monster. He hadn't been prepared for _cute_. Cleaned up and dried off it was soft and fluffy with dark, mottled grey fur. It was splayed out under Kurt's arm, each paw pointing in a different direction. Its tail wasn't quite as bushy as you could expect from looking at it, but it was likely its fur hadn't grown in all the way. In fact, the only thing that distinguished it from every other newborn puppy on Earth was its size. It was about the size of a housecat, but with stumpy legs and a bit more paunch to it. "Chubby little bastard, isn't it?"

Kurt feigned insult. "Ever heard the term _puppy fat_, David?"

He hadn't thought of that. He'd never realized the term actually came from anywhere; it made sense though, puppies did usually have a bit of chub to them, didn't they? "What's its name?"

"Well, first of all, 'it's' a _he_. I named him 'Alexander.' I figured it had the most versatility, plus it's a timeless classic." Kurt moved his arm slightly, prompting the werepup to let out a small whimper of a squeak. Against his better judgment, David wanted to reach out and pet the puppy, but held back.

"Versatility?"

"Yeah. I can call him 'Alexander,' 'Alex,' 'Al,' 'Xander,' 'Lex' –"

"Der?" David supplied. Kurt rolled his eyes at David. "Yeah, don't give me that, Hummel. You know you named him after that Alexander McFlurry guy."

Kurt chuckled and held a finger over his lips. "Shh…No one needs to know that. And it's _McQueen_; though, I'm rather impressed you had any knowledge about that to begin with." Kurt finally took a good look at David. "You got me flowers?"

"Uh, yeah." David looked at the bouquet in his hand, having forgot all about it. "I went online and looked up what you're supposed to give someone that just had a baby. Flowers, cards, stuffed animals and chocolate seemed to be pretty standard, so I got each of them." Kurt smiled at him as David handed him the bouquet for his approval. "I think they're lilies." Kurt nodded. "Um…and I got you…" David looked at the cover of the chocolates "Whitman's Sampler. The card's taped to the box." David handed the chocolates and card over next. Kurt looked everything over before placing them on the nightstand beside his bed. "And I figured stuffed bears were kind of clichéd. It's a sheep."

"A stuffed sheep for a wolf? Cute David." Kurt took the stuffed animal and held it next to Alex, rubbing it against him. Alex turned his head towards the new stimulation.

"What's with his eyes?" Even though the baby was obviously awake (or the world's most active sleeper), his eyes were firmly shut.

"They won't open until he's a few weeks old. He's deaf too for the first few weeks. He's completely dependent on touch and smell and taste. Makes it a bit easier for me, I guess. We don't have to worry about being super quiet around him."

"Where's his diapers?"

"He can't potty on his own. I have to rub his tummy to make him go, so diapers aren't really necessary."

David should have felt guilty, but he couldn't help that his first thought was how simple it would be to kill a werewolf while it was still so defenseless. As soon as he thought it though, he regretted it. It wasn't a killer _yet_. And if Kurt took the proper precautions he wouldn't ever _have_ to be a killer. He decided then and there that when Alex was a little older, when he was more likely to be a threat, David would sit Kurt down and explain to him about cages and shackles. He'd teach him about finding the right size and material cage and how shackles were a complete waste of time; a werewolf would sooner chew off its own paw than be chained up by shackles. If it hadn't been for the werewolf's healing ability, David would probably be missing a hand right now. But that brought up a question, how had Kurt managed to come out of an encounter with a werewolf alive? "So did you meet the father over vacation or something?" He was determined to try and be tactful about this.

"No, we met before school let out."

"Oh, so New York, then?"

Kurt shook his head. "No, in the Redzone."

"Yeah, but which one?

"Ours." David knit his brows in confusion. "Our Redzone. I met him about a half hour's walk away from here out in the Redzone."

David tried not to grimace. The thought of a werewolf so close to his home disgusted him. "So what, it was passing through or something?"

Kurt shook his head again. "No. I'm pretty sure he lives in Lima. I see him every full moon." Kurt looked fondly down at Alex. "I can't wait until Wolf meets Alex."

_Wolf_. Involuntarily, David's lip curled up in the corner as though he'd just tasted something disgusting. But then David frowned as a thought occurred to him. "Kurt, werewolves are _very_ territorial. A male will _kill_ any other males in the area. You need to keep Alex _away_ from…from _Wolf_." It was hard saying _its_ name out loud.

"My book says that isn't really true. Werewolves only become territorial when they're protecting their family from another werewolf. The book says Wolf will be an exemplary father." Kurt pulled a book off of his nightstand and handed it to David. He looked over the cover: _What to Expect When You're Expecting: The Werewolf Edition_. Multicolored post-it notes hung out from odd angles. David flipped it open; Kurt had apparently read the entire things through already. There were passages underlined and highlighted and scribbled notes and questions in the margins. David considered himself fairly open-minded when it came to other people and cultures, but even he wasn't stupid enough to believe such whitewashed bullshit. "Wolf has been very excited about being a father."

"So then where is he?" What the hell kind of father wouldn't be there the _second_ their baby was born?

"Like a lot of werewolves, Wolf has multiple personality disorder. The human part of him has absolutely no idea what the wolf part of him does."

David refrained from saying what he _wanted_ to say: _must make it easier for the human to deal with being a murder_. Instead, he said, "So Alex only gets to see his dad three times a month? Seems like a pretty shitty deal to me."

Kurt got this sad look in his eyes, "I know…but we'll figure things out, _someday_."

xoxoxo

"You're home late." Paul watched David over the top of his newspaper as David came through the front door.

"Yeah, went to a friend's house." David passed right by without glancing at his father, heading to the door by the kitchen that led downstairs.

Paul got up and followed. "A friend's house? Really?" David never really went anywhere or did things with other people. It was an exciting thing to hear about David getting out of his comfort zone once in a while.

"Yep. Did you know there's a werewolf in Lima?"

Paul stopped at the bottom of the stairs and watched David rifle through a crate on the ground, pulling up some steal contraptions he kept stored there. "There hasn't been a confirmed werewolf in Lima since…" Paul didn't finish the sentence. David knew what he meant and that was all that mattered.

"Yeah, well there's one now." David turned and headed up the steps at the back of the basement, heading outside.

"What are you doing?"

"There's a _werewolf_ in _Lima_. I'm going to set traps for it."

So they were modified bear traps that David was holding. The snap of the trap was powerful enough to completely sever a limb from a werewolf (or anything else unlucky enough to step on it). "Was the werewolf outside the Redzone?"

"No."

"Did it hurt anyone?"

David really wanted to say 'yes,' Kurt _couldn't_ have willingly _slept_ with that thing…but he seemed so happy thinking about it. But then again Kurt was strange. He probably thought he was living out his own Beauty and the Beast and thoroughly confused the creature's assault for affection. "No."

Paul grabbed David's arm. "Then you can't _do_ that. You could be _arrested_."

David laughed. "Oh yeah, like that'll happen. 'Hey, son, watcha got there?' 'Traps for taking out a werewolf.' 'A werewolf you say? Last werewolf we had round here killed fifteen people. Still haven't found any of the bodies, yet. Well, you stay safe son and have a good night.' The cops around here will _thank_ me if I take out a werewolf."

"What if someone _else_ steps in the trap? What if it's a human?"

David stopped. He hadn't thought about that. But now that he did, "A human in the Redzone is _asking_ for trouble. I'm not going to pity someone that's _that_ stupid."


	8. Happy

Anyone who was seeing the "change" for the first time would think it looked like the victim was seizing. The first time it had happened to David, Paul had tried to treat it like one, rolling David onto his side and cushioning his head. It didn't really matter; David just thrashed and hit his head and arms and legs against things anyway. David's body tensed and spasmed. His eyes rolled back in the sockets until only white was visible. He grit his teeth with enough strength to break them – thankfully each time it had happened so late into the change that the werewolf's advanced healing had repaired any damage. At the moment, David had his back arched, all of his weight balanced on the back of his head and heels. Paul felt completely helpless every time David went through the change; he was powerless to do anything but watch. It looked so painful to Paul, but David never had any memory of it and the creature he turned into always seemed fine once the change was complete.

Now, David's face was twisting and contorting into a horrid grimace. His nose and jaws stretched, the skin pulling taught as his snout extended. At the same time, his arms and legs were elongating. Under the blanket that David had draped over himself for modesty's sake, a tail was beginning to protrude from his coccyx. It wouldn't take much longer now; the entire change took less than two minutes, total. Fur began to bristle out from his pores; his ears became pointed and shifted so that they were higher up on his head. Countless other tiny changes took place all over and inside David's body.

Slowly, he began to relax and settle. The werewolf rolled over onto its side, stretched out on all fours, and shook itself. Standing up, it came to the door of the cage, reached between the bars, tugged on the lock, and snapped it open. It was a false lock. The werewolf had broken so many over the years that Paul had gotten one that just pulled open when tugged with enough force; David had never noticed.

xoxoxo

Wolf used his head to push the door to his cage open. Human's father stood in front of the cage, watching him. Human's father spoke to him; Human's father rarely said anything to him. "I need you to do something for me." Wolf cocked his head and tried to sidestep Human's father. He really didn't have any interest in what he had to say; Wolf had more important things to deal with right now and such a very limited amount of time before the morning. But Human's father grabbed him by the arm. Wolf was tempted to growl at the human, but decided that would just result in bad things. "Please, David's done something stupid."

Wolf let out a snort of air from his nose. _Human did __**many**__ stupid things_.

"Please. Do you know what a bear trap is?"

_Bear trap_? Wolf thought about that. The concept was familiar. He wracked his memories. Somewhere, buried in the bottom of his mind was a faint memory from when he was a child: before he and Human had become two. It was a movie: a little girl and her father. Her father helped animals, the same way Human's father helped people. But the movie was not about the little girl. No, the movie was about her cat. But the cat had nothing to do with the bear trap. There was also a little boy in the movie and a badger and a witch. The badger had stepped in a bear trap. The bear trap was an angry metal jaw that tore flesh. Wolf had seen bear traps outsid of movies before. In fact…Wolf looked over to Human's collection of weapons meant for hurting unhumans. The wooden crate that held the bear traps was empty.

"That's right. Those are bear traps." Wolf looked at Human's father. Human's father was gesturing to where the bear traps should have been. "David heard that there's a werewolf in the area – you need to be more careful about being seen – and he set bear traps in the woods. I need you to find them and set them off before anyone gets hurt." Wolf thought that over. He _really_ needed to get to his mate; something told him his mate had had the baby. But what if his mate got hurt in one of the traps? And while he didn't really care for other humans or unhumans, he didn't want any of _them_ getting hurt in the traps, either. Grunting in resignation, Wolf bobbed his head at Human's father. "Good. Thank you. There are five of them. You need to drop a weight or something in the center of it. But stay clear of it, or it can seriously hurt you. I don't want David getting hurt." It hurt Wolf a little that Human's father was only concerned about David. What if Wolf had stepped in one of those traps? Would Human's father care that Wolf got hurt? Or only that David got hurt? Not that Wolf would be dumb enough to step on one, but still…once upon a time, Human's father had been _his_ father, as well.

xoxoxo

Tracking the path Human had taken through the woods was not as simple as Wolf had expected. He couldn't _smell_ Human any more than he could smell himself; his smell was one of the only things that didn't change during the full moon. Thankfully, Human wasn't the best at traversing the woods and had left a clumsily obvious path for Wolf to follow: broken branches, bent sticks, streaks in the dirt where Human hadn't picked his feet up well enough. Good thing there weren't many predators over humans in the food chain or Human would have been tracked and eaten by a predator many years ago.

The first trap Wolf came across made him curious. He'd never gotten close to one of the traps before and he really couldn't understand how something so innocuous could be so dangerous. He looked about for a minute trying to find a rock to drop on the trap. This area of the woods was surprisingly clean, though. Unless he wanted to dig, Wolf probably wouldn't find a decent sized stone. Instead, he reached up into a tree and ripped down a thick branch. He poked at the trap trying to trigger it; he wasn't entirely certain how they worked. When the stick hit the circular pad in the center of the trap, it snapped up, the two sides coming together in a loud, scary crash, shattering the branch where the teeth had dug into it. Wolf was usually pretty brave about most things…which was why he was glad there was no one around to see him jump at the sudden noise and movement of the trap. Wolf held the broken end of the stick in front of his face; it was about as thick as his bicep, but even still, the trap had completely sheered off the end. As good as Wolf's healing was, it wouldn't be able to repair _that_ kind of damage. It couldn't work quick enough to knit a severed limb back together. Wolf shuddered before taking off to find the other four traps before something else did.

xoxoxo

When Wolf got to his usual spot in the woods outside Kurt's home, he was quick to see that Kurt was not alone. An older human, about the same age as Human's father, sat on the porch steps next to Kurt. Wolf seemed to have some vague recollection of this man pinning him in submission against a wall. If the memory wasn't enough to make Wolf nervous, the fact that he was holding a rifle, was. Wolf knew rifles. Human's father used to keep one with him whenever Wolf was around. He didn't carry it with him anymore; instead, he kept it mounted on the wall behind his chair in the cage-room. "Just in case" he had said.

As always, Kurt seemed to spot Wolf right away. It was somewhat bruising to Wolf's ego that a _human_, with an almost non-existent sense of smell and sense of hearing, and poor eyes not attuned to minute movements, could spot him so readily. Kurt smiled and stood up. The other human stood as well, but he did not smile. Kurt placed his hand on the second human's shoulder. Reluctantly, the man lowered his weapon. Wolf dropped to his front paws, trying to make himself look as small and nonthreatening as possible. He padded slowly out from the woods; maybe if he seemed docile, he wouldn't seem as frightening. When he got to Kurt, he lolled his tongue out and butted Kurt's hand with his forehead, doing his best puppy-dog impression.

His earlier premonition had been correct; a simple glance at Kurt showed Wolf that there was no more baby in his belly. There was an unfamiliar scent all over him, though; some kind of living creature spent a lot of time in Kurt's arms. _So that is what my son smells like_. Wolf pressed his nose closer to Kurt's chest, trying to inhale as much of his son's scent as possible. He smelled like happiness; there was no other word for it.

Wolf let out a rather undignified "yip" – a staccato bark of excitement. "Would you like to meet Alex?" _Alex_. _My son's name is Alex_. Wolf let out another "yip" in affirmation. Kurt turned to the other human. "See, Dad? I told you he wouldn't be territorial about his own son. He's excited to see him." _Dad? So this was Kurt's father_.

"Just 'cause he's "excited" doesn't mean he won't tear him to shreds the second he sniffs him."

Kurt moaned in exacerbation. "He's not dangerous. He's just a big ol' foofy, aren't you?" _Foofy?_ Wolf wasn't familiar with that term, but it didn't _sound_ insulting. He nuzzled against Kurt's side, trying to reassure Kurt's father that he wasn't a mean Wolf. The old man seemed a bit leery, but stepped aside and allowed Kurt and Wolf to pass. Wolf had never been in a different house before. All he really knew of houses was what he could gather from Human's sparse memories, his own hazy memories from before he and Human had split, and his own room in the basement of Human's house. He was a bit surprised to see that not all houses were barren walls, concrete floors, and cobwebs. _So many smells_. Wolf sniffed at everything as he passed by; some smells were warm and earthy, some were tangy, some were people-scents, and a lot were very chemically. There was one scent that smelled strongly of pine trees but had an acidic overtone to it.

Kurt led him through the kitchen, the hall, and up a flight of stairs. The carpeting under his feet fascinated Wolf; it was like soft grass. The stairs that led from Wolf's basement in Human's house to the outside were rough and scratchy: flaking concrete that hadn't been re-poured in decades. There were photos on the wall over the stairs. Wolf recognized Kurt and Kurt's father in the pictures, but there were several other people he felt he should recognize as well. A skinny male human that seemed to tower over Kurt in one of the pictures; a girl, who was dwarfed by Kurt and the tall human, in another picture; a collection of human males all wearing the same red and white outfit.

Most of the humans in that particular picture had funny looking faces; he had a strong feeling they were dirty or wearing – what was it called? Makeup? And then he noticed a face he knew he should recognize but was actually slightly shocked to see; Human was in the picture. Human smiled broadly, his cheeks scrunched up and his teeth showing. Human was happy. Human wasn't happy very often, Wolf knew at least that much about him. Human was sad about a lot of things; about being a werewolf, not having a mother, not having a mate, having an "ugly" body (at least in Human's opinion), he was self-conscious about everything he said and everything he did in front of other people, and he was terrified about the future. Wolf felt slightly bad for him. But on the other hand, not bad at all; Human would kill Wolf if it were possible, so why should Wolf care?

Wolf spent so long looking at that picture that Kurt had to clear his throat to get Wolf's attention. Wolf turned away from the picture and bounded up the rest of the stairs to catch up with Kurt. Kurt stood in front of an open door, revealing his bedroom. Wolf probably would have spent as much time examining his mate's den as he had the rest of the house if it weren't for one tiny little thing. One _very_ tiny little thing. At the foot of Kurt's bed was a small topless cage. Inside the cage was a small, fuzzy ball of fur. Wolf crept closer, trying to go slowly. He knew he could be intimidating; he didn't want to scare his baby. When he saw how still the baby was, how even its breathing, he realized the his little pup was asleep. He stood then, and peered in at his son as he slept peacefully, flattened out on his stomach. There was a small whimper; Wolf was about to bend down and lick his son – comfort him – when he realized that the whimper had come from himself. "You can hold him if you like."

Kurt smiled up at Wolf, his eyes wide and bright and encouraging. Wolf bent down, nuzzling the baby with his nose. The baby smelled like the fruity chemicals Kurt doused himself in. Wolf began vigorously licking the baby until the smell was clean and natural. Wolf opened his mouth and wrapped his jaw around Alex's neck. Moving away from the crib slightly, he headed towards Kurt's bed with Alex but stopped when he heard a sharp gasp.

"_Wolf_! No! You have to be _gentle_ with him." Kurt took Alex from Wolf's mouth and cradled him in his arms. "Hold him delicately, in your arms, like this." Kurt showed him by cradling Alex close to his chest. Wolf puzzled that over in his mind. To him, that way of holding Alex made absolutely no sense. _If I get attacked, I can't run fast on all fours with a baby in my paws. I also couldn't fight back an attacker without my claws. No. Babies are supposed to be held in the mouth._ Wolf took Alex back from Kurt, using his paws as Kurt insisted. He then lifted Alex back up to his muzzle and held him in his mouth by his scruff again, demonstrating the proper way of carrying a baby to Kurt. Wolf leaned in towards Kurt and pushed his muzzle towards Kurt's face, trying to get Kurt to take Alex in his teeth. _Humans use their paws for __**everything**__; it makes more sense to hold the baby in your mouth_. Kurt turned his head away and took Alex back in his hands. _"Gentle_, Wolf." Kurt held Alex to his own face and began smothering the newborn in kisses; he was starting to get fidgety from getting passed back and forth and jostled so much. As Kurt kissed Alex and rubbed his face against him, Alex started smelling like fruity chemicals again. Wolf moved in close to his baby and mate and began grooming them both with his tongue, trying to clean them of the fruity smells, while Kurt continued to plant kisses on the baby's face. This was his family; this was _happy_. If Human weren't so full of anger and resentment he could have _happy_ too.

**xoxoxo**

**The movie Wolf was thinking of was _The Three Lives of Thomasina_, one of my favorites.**

**The photo Wolf was looking at was of the McKinley Titans after their championship game.**

**When you post questions in the reviews, I try to get back to you about them (unless you don't have an account…then it's really hard). However, more often than not, the response is going to be along the lines of "wait and see," because so far everything people have asked is already planned to be addressed somewhere in the story. Feel free to continue asking questions, though!**

**For the several people who asked about Alex being in wolf form…wait and see. That'll be addressed next chapter.**


	9. Dust mop

"I'll admit, I'm kind of surprised you called me." Surprised, yes. Upset, certainly not. When David saw Kurt's name pop up on his cell phone, his heart fluttered a little bit madly. True, Kurt only wanted David to come over and tutor him, but whatever.

"You're the only one I know who's any good at math. Well, other than Mike and – don't get me wrong, I love Mike – but he's _horrible_ at tutoring. He can teach dance just fine, but math? No." Kurt led David into the living room and gestured to the couch.

His math textbook and notebooks were already spread out on the coffee table. Blotches of black scribbles on sheets of lined paper and papers that had been balled up and tossed onto the floor were all the evidence David needed of Kurt's inability to solve basic algebraic functions. "What makes you so certain that _I'm_ a good tutor?"

"Because you're my last hope and that's just how things always seem to work out."

David chuckled as he sat down on the couch and looked over the pages that the textbook was currently opened to. "I was wondering what you were doing about school."

Kurt sat down on the couch, keeping an obnoxiously large gap between himself and David. "Apparently the state has some law where I have to be provided schooling."

"It's not just the state; it's federal law. All children are entitled to a "free and appropriate public education" until they are twenty-one. My dad did some research on it after I got expelled. I had always thought 'expelled' meant that was it, you were done with school; apparently that's not how it works, though. Where's your dust mop?"

"My dust -? Oh! You mean Alex." Kurt smiled at David; David hadn't really intended "dust mop" as a term of endearment, but he wasn't going to argue with Kurt taking it as one. "He's over there." Kurt pointed over the coffee table and to a spot on the ground next to a loveseat.

David could see Alex, once again, sprawled out on his stomach. It must be his favorite position. Either that or he didn't have the muscles to maneuver himself into any other position. "Well, at least you don't have to teach him to swim." Alex moved his front paws so that they were pointed frontwards and then pushed them back so that they were lined up with his sides. His back toes dug into the hardwood floors, found minimal purchase, and propelled him forward perhaps an inch at a time. He looked like he was trying to swim across the floor, though David had to admit, as slow going as it was, he wasn't doing a half-bad job of it.

"Yeah, I try to give him as much time on the hardwood and tile floors as I can so he can practice shuffling around like that. He's a lot faster than he was a few days ago."

Dave watched mesmerized as Alex kept up the steady pace of pushing himself across the floor. Every now and then, Alex would stop, lift his tiny head up, and sniff at the air; his eyes were still closed and he was probably still deaf, but he seemed very aware of his surroundings. He wasn't sure why, but David felt a little pride seeing Alex progress so much in two short weeks. That was a stupid notion though; David's role in Alex's existence had stopped the moment he handed over the newborn to its father (mother?). "Did his dad come and visit him earlier this week? It was the full moon, wasn't it?" David knew very well that it had been the full moon, how could he not? But he still feigned only vague awareness of the lunar calendar; over-familiarity with the schedule of the moon might raise suspicion.

"Yep! His father came every night of the full moon. I'm surprised Alex has any fur left: Wolf was so obsessed with grooming him. Each night he spent at least an hour grooming him…and me for that matter." David almost curled his lips in distaste but turned it into a flinch at the last second. He didn't want to hear things like that. And he hated to admit it, but he was shocked that the werewolf really _was_ paternal with Alex. But then again, even alligators made decent parents…didn't make them any less of bloodthirsty killers, though.

"If the full moon has come and passed, how come Alex still looks like…like _that_."

Kurt and David both looked over at the werepup who had run (for lack of a better word) into one of the legs of the coffee table and was having trouble maneuvering around it. David, being closer to him than Kurt, took pity on the little critter and bent down to help him. He pushed the puppy away from the leg of the table, allowing him a few extra feet of unobstructed pathway to push himself along. Just as David was about to sit back and retract his hand, the little moist nose pushed against the flat of David's hand. David could feel the warmth of the puppy's breath as it sniffed his skin. Against his will, David could feel himself smiling. This little guy hadn't hurt anyone…_yet_. He wasn't a monster…_yet_. He wasn't evil…_yet_. A stray thought wormed its way through David's heart, _Maybe I could stick around and make sure he can keep the beast under lock and key?_ Kurt, responding to David's query, cut into his thoughts. "He was conceived while his dad was in werewolf form; it's just more natural for him."

"So…what? He'll be like a reverse werewolf? Turning human during the full moon?"

"Oh, no. I've done some research; eventually he'll figure out how to turn back and forth between being human and werewolf. Like all werewolves, his inner wolf will be drawn to the power of the full moon, but he'll be able to change back and forth at will…once he learns how."

"'_Like all werewolves_?'" It had occurred to David that there was some way to control the wolf, to fight off the change, but Kurt made it sound so easy. David had spent plenty of time trying to fight off the change, mind over matter and all that bullshit. Nothing had ever worked. No matter what he did, the change always came: meditation, prayer, focusing all his mental strength on staying human, his father had even administered strong sedatives to him just before a change.

"Yeah. Wolf can't because his mind is more or less shattered, but Alex should be fine. Being a werewolf is natural to him; I'm pretty sure Wolf was _turned_ into a werewolf, though. The stuff I've read implies that werewolves that are turned usually have a difficult time with it." _Well, no duh_. David kept his thoughts to himself, but what Kurt said was kind of obvious. When you're forced to be some kind of monster against your will, of course you'd have a hard time with it. But if you were raised as a monster, among fellow monsters, you wouldn't know any better. There was a soft moistness against David's hand. He looked down and saw that Alex was licking his palm. Placing his hand under the pup's tummy, he lifted him up and laid him in his lap. _I'll never let you become a monster, Alex_.

xoxoxo

He was having trouble sleeping. The thought of Alex being able to change at will worried David. If he could change whenever he wanted, he'd be pretty powerful. Yes, Alex could be taught to be good, but there were so many children out there, whose parents had done everything right, but still turned into vile little creatures with no care for anyone but themselves. And if he could control when and where he changed, locking him up on the full moon would accomplish nothing. There had been another werewolf in Lima who could change at will; too many innocent people had died because of his "will."

_Seven years earlier…_

His dad had done a good job stitching him up. But no matter how good of a doctor his father was, he wasn't good enough to purge David's blood of the poison running through his veins. And even though his father had cleaned and mended his wound, they still found themselves at the hospital the next day. Several different therapists, councilors, social workers, and psychologists had tried talking to him. David refused to talk to anyone other than his father. One wrong word and he was terrified that the slayers would hunt him down and kill him, or lock him up. Or maybe the families of one of the werewolf's victims would think _he_ was the bad werewolf and try to hurt him. Instead, he stayed quiet and let his father do the talking. Even when the police came to talk to him, David let his father talk.

"I'm very confused about the whole situation; what David described to me sounds _exactly_ like a werewolf…but yesterday wasn't the full moon. There wasn't _any_ moon last night." David sat in his father's lap, his head on his father's shoulder, his arms around his father's neck while his father rubbed his back, stopping only to gesture in some way as he spoke.

Because of the way David sat, he couldn't see the two officers – slayers – as they talked with his father. David was frightened of the slayers; he hadn't yet come to idolize them as he someday would. He didn't understand how they worked; he was terrified that if either of them got a good look at him, made eye contact, they'd instantly recognize him for the monster he had been turned into. "Some of the more powerful werewolves are in complete control of the change. The full moon becomes little more than a sacred day to them; even though the moon will still 'pull' on them, they can fight it if they're strong enough." David turned those thoughts around in his head; if he wanted to fight the werewolf inside, he'd have to be a _strong_ werewolf. But if he were a _strong_ werewolf, wouldn't the wolf have more power over him? But it had been such a _tiny_ bite; wasn't there a chance he might not change at all? The next full moon was still two weeks away; he wouldn't know anything until then.

There was a rustling sound behind David, the sounds of people shifting. "We'll keep in touch, Dr. Karofsky. If we…find out anything, we'll be sure to contact you." David may have only been in elementary school, but he wasn't stupid. He knew when the slayer said, "find out anything" he really meant, "find your mother's body." David's stomach felt queasy thinking about the fact that he'd never see his mother again.

David hazarded a glance up as he felt someone move by him. One of the slayers stood beside David, looking down upon him. The slayer raised his hand and ran his fingers through David's hair, petting him like his mother used to. The slayer was a black man, but his skin seemed pale: sallow (though David did not know the word). He stared at David for a minute, his eyes full of pity and concern, before turning back to Paul. "Remember, if you need anything, _anything_ at all, contact us." His sentence seemed to weigh more than the sum of its words, as though something meaningful were hidden between the words. The slayer handed Paul a business card and turned to leave, the second slayer following close behind.


	10. Slayer

A Saturday morning, lounging around in boxers and a white t-shirt (at least it _used_ to be white), not having to worry about school work (it could always be done on Sunday), with Netflix streaming on the large flat-screen television in the living room and no one around to insist he put on a movie with more "educational things" and less "exploding things" was David's idea of a relaxing time. Internet surfing had kept him up until well past two in the morning, so he found himself dozing off occasionally, trying his damndest to make sense of a plot he'd only been awake to see twenty minutes of. Not that it mattered. The plot of the movie was the same as every other movie he'd seen this year; hot guy is trying to save the world and take down ultimate bad guys while fighting side-by-side with/saving hot chick. Hot guy gets the crap kicked out of him time after time, making him look like a filthy train wreck until guru/sensei/mentor steps up and gives him five seconds of training that turns the tide of battle. Hot girl gets her ass kicked over and over again, as well (while ridiculing hot guy about something or other for comedic effect), but somehow manages to keep her hair and makeup perfect and receives only a single scratch that somehow makes her look hotter.

Not that David would notice the hotness of a girl or anything. He'd become good at faking the awareness of hot chicks, though. Logically, he knew what he should find attractive: big breasts, pouty lips, doe-eyes, etc. It all meant nothing to him…except the doe-eyes. He liked the doe-eyes; they set off something primal in him. Personally, when it came to attraction, he liked straight lines and angles, not "curves in all the right places." He wanted small and delicate; someone whose strength and power was all internal. Kurt Hummel had always been the paradigm of what he found attractive. He was graceful and lithe, petite but with huge eyes that got bigger when he was scared, excited, shocked, angry. Every part of David's being saw Kurt as something that needed to be protected, cradled and coddled.

Until Kurt spoke. Then David would get a hard-on at how powerful and commanding that little bitch could be; Kurt yelling at him or ordering him around was more of a turn-on than any porn David had ever looked at. That's why David couldn't be certain he wasn't stuck in some daydream when he saw Kurt's name popup on his vibrating cell phone. It was on the third ring before David remembered that he actually needed to _pick it up_ in order to talk to Kurt. "'ello?"

"Hey, Dave!" Kurt sounded far too chipper for nine o'clock on a Saturday morning. "I was wondering, would it be all right if Alex and I spent the day at your house? I know it's short notice, but we _really_ need to get away from here for a while."

"Uhhh…" Kurt was asking to spend the day at _his_ house? True, Kurt's son would be tagging along, but David could live with that. "Yeah, sure."

"Yay! Thank you _so_ much, David. I'll pay you back, I promise! See you in half an hour." There was sudden silence on Kurt's end of the line followed by a steady _**boop, boop, boop**_ informing David that Kurt had hung up. David put the phone back down on the coffee table but noticed something was… _off_. David squinted his eyes and furrowed his brow as he continued looking at his phone. The screen had gone blank, but that wasn't it. The plate of scrambled eggs from last night's dinner on the table wasn't unusual. Nor was the coffee his father had left behind before leaving for work this morning.

Oh crap.

Dirty dishes in the living room, a carpet that hadn't seen a vacuum in weeks, broken potato chips squished into the couch cushions...men should _not_ be allowed to live without the direct supervision of a woman.

David scooped up as much of the mess as he could, transferring it to the kitchen; he'd deal with it later. He just wouldn't let Kurt in the kitchen and he'd try to guide Kurt away from the living room as quickly as possible. His bedroom should be relatively clean, seeing as David spent almost no time in there. He dressed and slept in his bedroom: that was it. Speaking of dressed; David gave himself a tentative sniff. Shower...shower would be good. He pulled off his shirt and boxers and tossed them into the laundry closet as he passed on the way to the bathroom. It wasn't the most thorough shower he'd ever had – there wasn't nearly enough time for him to dwell on the fact that Kurt would be _in_ his _bedroom_.

With fifteen minutes until Kurt's arrival, he entered his bedroom to discover that he had greatly over estimated the cleanliness of his bedroom. By a reasonable person's standards it looked like a warzone. By David's standards, it wasn't _too_ horrific; nothing a closet couldn't take care of. He was used to closets hiding his dirty little secrets. After quickly throwing on jeans and a polo, it took another ten minutes for him to get everything from the floor into the closet. He'd worry about the avalanche of clothes that would collapse on him the next time he opened the closet _after_ Kurt had left.

With everything said and done, he had just enough time to get to the front door, looking casual, as he opened it for Kurt. "Hey, perfect timing; I just got out of the shower." _Smooth, Karofsky, get him subconsciously thinking about you wet and naked without sounding sleazy_.

Kurt definitely looked like he'd seen better days. The area around his eyes was dark; it seemed to have just a tint of bruising, but not from an impact of some kind, from sleeplessness. His appearance was disheveled: his hair had obviously been neglected for some time and while it (his hair) seemed to have remained on speaking terms with a comb, it obviously hadn't seen mousse, gel, or hairspray in a while. "Thank you _so_ much for letting us come over, Dave. I'm pretty sure you were my last shot before I had to take Alex to the mall or something…I'm not sure how well that would've worked out. I'm still not too sure about taking a baby werewolf out in public."

Speaking of baby werewolves, Kurt had Alex tucked up in the crook of his arm, a tan leather bag, puffed up in the center from over-stuffing, hung from his elbow. Alex looked around interestedly at everything; his little eyes had finally opened…_sort of_. His eyes looked pinched in the corner, like something was squeezing the outer corners of his lids together or like he had eye-gunk preventing his eyes from opening all the way. He could only see out of the inner corners of his eyes, giving him a decidedly cross-eyed appearance. David, thankfully, had enough discretion to not mention such an obvious defect to a new parent. He _was_ however curious about what appeared to be an overnight bag hanging from Kurt's arm, swinging just below the baby. "Is that a really big purse?"

Kurt raised a single eyebrow, lowered his chin, and jutted his hip out to the side as he kept firm eye contact with David. "No. But would you _really_ be all that surprised if I said yes?" David shook his head. It had been a pretty stupid question. "It's an imitation Vanessa Bruno "Lune" satchel that I'm using as a diaper bag. There was no way in _hell_ I was going to get one from Baby Gap…although the Bella Tunno line _was_ adorable." At David's blank look, Kurt elaborated, "I put Alex's puppy mat in there…in case he has to, you know, _go_."

David nodded, as though he understood. In actuality, he had no _idea_ what Kurt was talking about but was afraid that if he asked any questions, Kurt would be encouraged to talk about bags longer than absolutely necessary. As far as David was concerned, the requirements of 'absolutely necessary' had been met the second Kurt had responded 'no' to David's original query about the bag. Alex squirmed around in Kurt's arms, reminding David that the two were still standing on his front stoop. "Why don't you guys come in? Sorry about the mess, my dad and I keep odd hours and cleaning can get a bit sporadic."

"That's…_ok_."

The pained expression Kurt made as he choked out the second word and eyed over the room told David that, in Kurt's mind, it most certainly was _not_ 'ok'. The longer Kurt's gaze lingered on every speck of dust, dirt, and – dear god, was that a pizza box poking out from under the recliner? When had they last ordered pizza? – the better David got at seeing the mess through a stranger's perspective. What was a fairly normal living arrangement to him most days, now made him curl his toes in embarrassment in front of Kurt. "My room's way cleaner than this. Maybe we could go there and he could scootch around on the floor?" Kurt looked a bit leery at the idea. "No dirt, I promise." It took Kurt a minute to think it through, but after a long, internal session of hemming and hawing, Kurt nodded his head and followed after David.

To Kurt, David's house appeared extremely modest; from the outside, it looked like a cute, little Cape-style house. Inside though, "cute" and "little" became, at best, "decrepit" and "cramped." The living room and dining room were one in the same. From what Kurt could see of the kitchen, he was fairly certain he could touch the wall separating the kitchen and living room, while simultaneously touching the outer wall. The windows were unwashed, wallpaper was peeling, none of the furniture matched. Kurt decided, wrongly, that David's family must be poor. Why else such a small, dirty house? Thankfully, David's room wasn't too horrific. The floor was clean, at least. But then again, it didn't look like David had enough belongings to really make a mess. Next to the door was a closet, adjacent to that was a bed, adjacent to that wall was a wall with two windows, a bureau, and a small shelf of CDs and movies, and the final wall had only a plain wooden desk with a laptop on it, some schoolbooks and papers in disarray littered atop it. Kurt handed Alex over to David and began setting out Alex's puppy mat.

David took the pup and held him away from his body slightly, not sure how to hold him exactly. Terrified of dropping Kurt's kid (how much would Kurt hate him if _that_ happened?), David sat down on the edge of his bed and cradled Alex in his lap. "So why were you so desperate to get out of the house today?" The little dust mop was trying to lick at David's hand as David stroked his head. David held his hand still in front of Alex's muzzle so he could get a good sniff of him. Alex poked at David's fingers with his nose, the little nostrils flaring. A moment later Alex's eyes were closed as he sucked on the side of David's hand.

"Now that Alex is getting to be more mobile, my dad wanted to baby-proof slash puppy-proof the house."

"So throw a few of those plastic things on the electrical outlets. No biggie."

"You'd think that, wouldn't you? No, my dad is going all out. This is his first grandkid; he wants to do everything right. His biggest concern was the stairs; Alex can just manage to squeeze between the rails and dad was terrified he'd fall, I was kind of nervous about that too." Kurt straightened out the corners of the puppy mat, making sure nothing was bunched up or folded over. Alex continued to suck on David's hand. "Carol and I came home from shopping yesterday and discovered he and Finn had tacked some of that white, gardening lattice work over the rails. Carol and I would have none of that; if you're going to do a job, do it _right_. So today, my dad and Finn are putting in a new banister with less spacing between the rails. Meanwhile, Carol is converting the old spare room into a playroom and bedroom for Alex. It'll be a completely baby-safe place for him to play and run around."

"You still haven't explained why you needed to get away. I imagine he would have been safe in your bedroom."

"Not from the paint fumes. He's got a sensitive little nose. Aw, so cute; he must like you." Kurt had looked up and seen the sleepy Alex trying to nurse from David's hand. He dug around in the baby bag before coming back up with a bottle. Taking Alex back from David, Kurt tried feeding Alex. Every time he got the nipple of the bottle close to Alex's mouth, Alex would turn his head aside. "Not hungry? Just having fun chewing on Uncle David?" David blushed at being called "Uncle" David. Kurt placed Alex down on the puppy mat. Alex promptly tipped over and lay on his side before scrambling back up to his paws. "I have to show you the cutest video." Kurt hopped up to the bed with David, pulling out his phone. It was a video of Alex, taken sometime in the past week. Alex was in his crib, his eyes closed, but he was scuttling around, the same way he had on the floor at Kurt's house. Alex rear-ended the little stuffed sheep David had gotten him just after he was born and began dragging his body up and over it. When he had completely climbed Mount Sheep, he rooted around with his muzzle, eagerly looking for something. He found the sheep's ear, drew it into his mouth and began sucking on it like he had with David's hand. The video ended with Alex falling asleep like that...at least David _assumed_ he was sleeping, because he'd gone completely still. "He does this almost every night. Sheldon the Sheep is his favorite stuffed animal."

"You named it Sheldon?"

"Oh, careful Alex!"

Alex was walking, rather wobbly, on all four legs as he made his way towards David's open bedroom door. Kurt jumped up and jogged to shut the door, effectively sealing off Alex's escape path. "He walks like he's drunk." Alex had fallen onto his side, again, and was flailing his little paws in the air, trying to figure out how to right himself, again.

Kurt stared blankly, looking at the back of David's door. There was a poster there. It had a plain black background with a large police badge-type shield on it. The badge was white, with a thin, red cross dividing the shield into quarters. The cross of Saint George the Dragon Slayer, the patron saint of slayers. The badge was the symbol of slayers. "I suppose this is how it feels to find a Klan hood in a friend's closet." Kurt felt numb; he trusted David. How could David support those…_monsters_?

"Oh, come on. The slayers aren't a _hate_ group. They work for the police and the government. _Someone_ has to keep the unhumans in line."

"The Nazis worked for the government too." Kurt bent down and began scooping up Alex's mat and bottle, roughly shoving them back into the bag.

"Oh, come on Kurt. Normal police aren't equipped to take care of unhumans. _Someone_ has to." David dropped to the floor and picked up Alex; Kurt couldn't leave without his kid, and David didn't want Kurt to leave. Or Alex for that matter; he liked the little bugger.

"Which would be fine, if the slayers only went after _bad_ unhumans. Slayers harass anyone they _think_ might be an unhuman, whether or not they've done anything wrong. And people _let_ them because they _hate_ unhumans so much. Slayers are the reason I'm afraid to bring Alex out in public. What it something happened? What if they _hurt_ him?"

"Not all slayers are like that." Kurt made a grab for Alex, but David held him close to his chest, cuddling him.

"How would you know?"

"Because I want to _be_ one."

Kurt's eyes went wide, his face pale. "And what if someday your boss sends you to hurt Alex?"

"It wouldn't happen."

"How do you know?"

David stroked Alex's fur, scratching him behind the ear. Alex was starting to get fidgety; he probably knew they were arguing. "Because you'd raise Alex _right_. You wouldn't let him become like those other monsters."

_Monsters?_ Kurt grit his teeth and set his jaw. "Slayers attack unhumans for the least of offenses. Someday, no matter how I raise him, Alex will be a teenager. No matter what a parent does, _all_ teenagers do stupid stuff. What if he gets in a fight at school, huh? The slayers would brand him a dangerous threat and they'd have all the justification they need to _kill_ him."

"Well, if I'm a slayer, I could make sure that _doesn't_ happen. I could talk to them."

Kurt shook his head sadly. "This isn't just about Alex. What about the unhumans out there, in the _exact same _situation, _without_ a slayer to vouch for them? Somewhere out there, there is a parent of an unhuman who loves their child _just as much_ as I love Alex, who will _lose_ their baby someday because the slayers are trigger-happy sociopaths." Kurt reached between them and took Alex, successfully this time. Alex whimpered, but otherwise didn't struggle. David stood up, but didn't follow as Kurt left his bedroom and then his house. David frowned before slamming his door and collapsing on his bed.


	11. In The Beginning

Burt Hummel sat at the kitchen table, eating a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash browns and toast. His grandson, his fluffy little pride and joy, sat in his lap licking up bacon grease from Burt's fingers every time he lowered his hand to him. Every so often, as an extra special treat, Burt would tear off a tiny corner of bacon and offer it up to the eleven-pound predator in his lap, prompting Alex to slap Burt's thigh enthusiastically with his tail. Alex's teeth were only just starting to poke through, so it was still too soon to give him a proper piece of bacon. Kurt would have a fit if he caught Burt giving him bacon, anyway. By rights, Burt shouldn't be having bacon either; but what Kurt didn't know, couldn't hurt him. He was still upstairs dressing, so Burt had a while to dispose of the evidence.

Alex went still in Burt's lap; his little ears perked up as he stared passed Burt towards the living room. Alex stood up in Burt's lap, his entire body going ridged as he stared intently. Burt heard a soft rapping on the front door, which was almost immediately drowned out by Alex's emphatic barking.

xoxoxo

David was a very proud person. No one could say with any certainty where David had gotten his sense of pride from – his father was quick to admit when he was in the wrong, brow-beaten by life as he was, and his mother had always been a very humble woman – but that didn't stop David from being proud. That's why it had taken David months to apologize to Kurt for the bullying, well after he began to be eaten by guilt over it, and it was also why it took him a full week to talk to Kurt about their argument.

David could hear Alex barking on the other side of the door almost the moment he knocked. He couldn't be sure why, but David was grateful that Alex had a fairly deep bark and not a high-pitched "yippy" bark. A yippy bark would not be becoming of a werewolf pup. A second voice, a non-werewolf voice, spoke up from the other side of the door. "Leave the mailman alone. He's just doing his job." It was Kurt's dad. Burt Hummel opened the door, probably to collect the mail, and frowned when he spotted David. Burt gave him the once over, and shouted over his shoulder, "Kurt, it's for you!"

Kurt bounced down the stairs, looking as handsome and radiant as ever, but slowed to a stop when he noticed David. Kurt wrapped his arms over his chest and stared down at David. "Alex, get back in here."

David lowered his gaze and saw that Alex had crept passed Burt's legs and was sitting between David's feet, staring up at him, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. His eyes had finally opened all the way and he seemed to be a less wobbly than he'd been the last time David had seen him. David lowered himself to Alex's level and picked him up. "C'm'ere little guy."

With Alex now in David's arms, Kurt had no real choice but to come the rest of the way down the stairs and stand beside his father at the door. Burt moved back to let Kurt through. "Hey, Kurt. Can we talk? About last weekend?"

Kurt looked at his father, who, getting the hint, slowly retreated to the kitchen. Kurt looked back at David and nodded, waving him into the house by way of welcome…if "welcome" bore a connotation of sarcasm and condescension. "Are you going to apologize?"

"I'm not going to apologize for my future profession; especially not if that profession is a legal one that seeks to protect people."

"And hurt others." Kurt sat down on the couch in the living room. David sat next to him, a safe ways away, with Alex in his lap. Alex placed his front paws on David's chest and stood on his hind legs, swiping his tongue at the underside of David's jaw, while his tail flapped happily back and forth.

"I'm not here to fight; I'm here to explain." Kurt, who had his body angled away from David's, looked at him from the corner of his eye. "Do you remember when we were little, and there were a rash of murders and missing person's cases?"

"Yes. The news said it was a werewolf." Kurt turned more towards David so that he could look at his son. "But they never caught him. They just like to blame all the evils in the world on werewolves."

"It _was_ a werewolf."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Based on what evidence? Bodies that were never found? Tracks that were never identified? The testimony of some snot-nosed, ten-year-old k-…" Kurt stopped his sentence short as he looked at David, realizing what David was going to tell him. "Were you…?"

David nodded. "My mother was the last one he killed. I watched him kill her…not just _kill_ her: _eat_ her." David worked hard not to let the tears come, even still, Kurt picked up the tiny hitch in David's voice. "There was a man lying on the side of the road. My mom got out of the car to help him. I watched as he turned into a werewolf, killed my mother, and then ate her insides. I hid in the trunk." He left out the part about getting bit himself. Kurt didn't need to know that. No one did.

"I'm so… _sorry_." The words felt weak in Kurt's mouth. What was a better word for "sorry"? You were "sorry" when you were late for an appointment. You were "sorry" when you stepped on someone's foot. What word was powerful enough to express the level of sadness, regret, and sympathy you felt for someone who was telling you that not only was their mother dead, but that they had _watched_ them die? "My mother's dead too." David looked up at Kurt; he had been staring at his lap and at Alex. David had always assumed Kurt's mother and father were simply divorced; that was far more common in this day and age than premature death. "She had cancer. I watched my mom die, too. But…at least _I _got to say goodbye." Kurt reached over and placed a hand over David's.

Alex, not understanding the solemnity of the moment, began pawing at his father's hand, wordlessly begging Kurt to pet him.

"After my mom died, the slayers that investigated the murders kept in touch. I was terrified of them at first; police can be intimidating. But they were people…just _people_. That's what any organization is; yes, some organizations have bad reputations, but they are made up of _individuals_, each with their own personality and reputation. I'm not going to candy coat things and say that the slayers are perfect, but I'm more interested in what they _stand_ for. Not what a few stupid individuals have done over the years." It was a blatant lie; David's respect for the slayers was almost entirely predicated on how many werewolves, vampires, gargoyles, nymphs and other unhumans they could destroy. David wouldn't be happy until they'd all gone the way of the dragon: extinct. Alex was the only exception; David didn't want to ever see that precious little puffball hurt.

"You must have hated werewolves after that."

"Still do. Not Alex though!" he was quick to amend. "You won't let Alex get like that."

Still holding David's hand with his own, Kurt leaned into him and placed his head on David's shoulder. "I can't imagine how hard seeing something like that must have been for you."

_Seven years earlier_

Paul had carried him into the house and to the bathroom. He ran a warm bath for David. Neither of them cared that David was naked. Both were too numb to care. Paul had been through a lot over the years, had _seen_ a lot as a doctor. Losing David after his transformation the night before; finding him in the early, sun-streaked hours of the morning, covered in blood as he wandered unseeing, almost blindly, through the backyard; hearing his son confess to cannibalism…each one of these events was too much for Paul. All of them together? If it weren't for how desperately his son needed him, it would have been too much to bear.

When the water was warm, but not hot, Paul scooped his son back up and placed him gently in the water. Paul washed David as David stared straight ahead, blankly. It seemed to take hours for all the blood to wash away. A ring of sickly pink had even begun to form at the water line in the tub. Finally though, just as David's fingers began to turn blue and his teeth began knocking together, the blood was gone. None of it had been David's. He had no injuries: no scratches, nicks or cuts.

The werewolf had eaten a person, and hadn't even suffered a scrape.

"I'm going to go find you some warm clothes. Stay here, ok?" David didn't so much as nod. When Paul left the bathroom, David stood and walked stiffly to the sink. He emptied a tube of toothpaste onto his brush and began furiously scrubbing at his teeth, tongue, gums, palate, everything the little plastic brush could reach. Nothing could get the taste out of his mouth, the feeling out of his stomach. Sticking the brush too far back produced a gagging sensation, but not enough to make him wretch. David reached for his father's mouthwash. Without a second thought, or really even a first, David opened the bottle and began drinking in long, hard gulps. His stomach immediately began to rebel. David got himself over the toilet just in time to purge his body. When he found he couldn't vomit anymore, he lifted the mouthwash to his lips and began to drink again. Paul had seen this, he had stood in the doorway and watched, helpless, as what would become a disturbing and dangerous ritual took hold of David.

After every change, David would drink as much mouthwash as his body would allow, forcing his body to eject anything the werewolf may have eaten during the night. He would then scrub himself raw in the burning-hot shower, trying to erase all evidence of the woods from his body. David wouldn't stop this self-flagellation, not as long as the werewolf was free do to whatever it did during the nights of the full moon.

They moved away from their beautiful house, trying to escape the memories of the happy life that they could never get back. A tiny house, away from neighbors, bordering the Redzone, was the best place for the two. Throughout most of the month, Paul threw himself into work; accepting a promotion the hospital had long tried foisting upon him. It was a promotion that a happy man with a family would not have accepted; it took too much time, required too much energy. A man who couldn't allow himself any downtime - time in which he might think about his wife and son - gladly accepted. During the nights of the full moon, Paul stayed with his son, holding him until the change came and the werewolf bounded away into the woods. He watched him in the mornings as he went through his manic ritual of cleansing.

The doctor in Paul realized it was horrifically dangerous for him to let his son destroy himself like this. The husband in him was far too deep in mourning for his lost wife to stop David. The father in him felt lost and unsure how to react, what to do.

That's when the chains came.

It was a first, drastic step towards saving David. But the werewolf rebelled every step of the way. The werewolf became violent and uncontrollable when chained. When the werewolf turned his anger and aggression on himself, trying to gnaw off a paw to free himself, Paul had no choice but to accept defeat…_this_ time.

The cage had been a godsend. _Getting_ it had been a nightmare. How to order a large steel cage without anyone noticing? Paul wouldn't let the authorities recognize David as a werewolf. The public registries for unhumans were not for the benefit of alerting the public to the presence of dangerous creatures; they were for the benefit of letting humans harass, taunt, dehumanize, even _kill_ those different than themselves. He had done it though; he had gotten the cage and everything would be all right. And it was, for a while. David stopped purging himself, stopped torturing himself, secure in the knowledge that the werewolf couldn't hurt anyone at night.

It took the werewolf only two months of slamming his body against the bars to find the weak point in the cage. The lock. The creature poked at it with its nose, sniffing over it curiously. Paul sat up in his chair, his hand ready on his rifle. The werewolf reached a paw through the bars, took hold of the lock and began pulling, banging, yanking, twisting, turning. It took a paltry amount of effort for the werewolf to get the lock broken and the cage door open. The beast bounced around the basement, trying to expand his newfound freedom from the cage. Paul, frightened for himself, flung open the basement door, too afraid to use his rifle and risk hurting his son. His son who had to be buried in there _somewhere_.

When David came home the next morning, rather than going down the hall to the bathroom, he went downstairs to the basement. He silently examined the damage the werewolf had done, casually observed the shattered lock on the floor and wordlessly retreated to his bedroom. Paul went to David's room not long after, a plate of food in hand. The plate clattered to the floor when Paul found David, his face blue, his lips swollen, his eyes bulging as he hung stiffly from the beam in his closet. He was still conscious; thank god for small mercies. It was then Paul began begging, pleading, and praying. Not to God, a being who had so heartlessly tried taking everything from him.

But to the werewolf.

It would be their secret; David needn't ever know. Paul would keep the werewolf's secret, all Paul asked was that he left no traces and returned to the cage by morning. That way, David _could_ never know. Paul couldn't know whether or not the creature understood except through trial and error. So he bought a new lock, a different type of lock that Paul assured David would be stronger than the last. When the change took David away from him, the werewolf stared expectantly at Paul with curious, far too human, eyes. Paul opened the basement door first, then the lock on the cage. The werewolf poked his head out slowly, nodded once at Paul, then bolted out of the house.

The next morning, the werewolf quietly returned to the cage and settled itself down for the second part of the change: the change that would bring David back. When David awoke that morning in the locked cage, he felt the most vague shadow of happiness.


	12. What Big Teeth You Have

Kurt had expected being a teen parent to be a bit more challenging. Even with the online classes being substantially more rigorous than McKinley's courses, he still found himself completely done each day shortly after noon. His only trouble spots were math and science: both of which David helped him with.

As for Alex, Kurt couldn't have asked for a better child. It was most likely due to the fact that Alex wasn't quite human, but he had to be the most agreeable child to ever walk the Earth. He was already, at just a month old, almost completely housetrained; if he needed to relieve himself, he simply went to his puppy mat, did his business and went on his way. Sometime he missed, or had an accident, but he was learning. When he was hungry, he whimpered until Kurt fed him. If he was restless, he could easily get to any of his favorite toys; when Carol had done up the nursery, she had made sure to keep everything Alex would want at snout level.

Kurt got up for breakfast every morning at seven and relaxed until eight. Then he would get Alex out of his crib and give him a bottle of formula. From there, Alex would play on the floor of his nursery or watch television while Kurt worked off of his laptop in the loveseat. Alex had a small television in his room where he could watch one movie a day: just enough to keep him occupied while Kurt did his schoolwork. Alex loved cartoon musicals, but sadly, couldn't pay attention long enough to watch a live action musical if his life depended on it.

Kurt was almost done with his schoolwork for the day while Alex was busy terrorizing a stuffed hedgehog. Alex was just discovering the joy of trying to destroy his toys. He'd pick up a nice, soft plush toy by its head or limbs and just whip it around, shaking his head and growling until he decided to let go and fling it against a wall. He only had a few little teeth, so he wasn't really doing any damage to them, yet. But in a few weeks, Kurt could foresee himself cleaning up stuffing everyday. Kurt had consulted his werewolf baby book and was shocked to find that the book spoke out against discouraging that kind of behavior. It was just naturally how werewolf pups played; if Alex had any siblings they'd constantly be nipping at each other, play wrestling, and grabbing each other's tails with their teeth. It was instinctual.

So far, Sheldon the Sheep was the only toy to escape the potential carnage.

Kurt felt something soft hit the back of his computer and looked down to see the (formerly airborne) hedgehog lying at his feet. Kurt bent over and held the toy out to Alex, but his son just sniffed indignantly at the round, suede creature and tried jumping into Kurt's lap. He was still too short (and chubby) to quite make it, so he just repeatedly bounced against Kurt's legs, scrambling his paws against Kurt's knee. "In a few minutes, Alex. Daddy still has to finish up his review for the book he read last night."

Alex kept jumping until he realized Kurt was intentionally ignoring him as he typed away. Alex sat back on his haunches and whimpered. When that didn't work to get Kurt's attention he grabbed the hem of his pants in his teeth (all four of them) and began whipping his head back and forth. Kurt closed up his laptop and looked down at his son. Putting on his best stern-daddy face (formerly known as his bitch-face), Kurt forced his voice to get as strict as he could. _"Alex_! Be_have."_ He divided the word "behave" into two sharp syllables that made Alex's ears twitch. Alex whimpered as he retreated to the far side of the room. He kept his back to Kurt and stared at the closed door. He let out one final whimper before looking over his shoulder at Kurt and then staring back at the door. His little ears went back, his chin tilted up and he let out a long, drawn out "ARR-WWOOOOOO!"

Kurt's forehead creased with wrinkles as his eyes went wide. "When did you figure out how to do that?" Alex howled again in response. Kurt smiled; Alex was too damn cute sometimes. "Come here." Alex just looked at him. Placing his laptop on a shelf, Kurt got down onto the floor and crawled towards Alex on all fours. "Come here." Alex reluctantly scampered over to his father and licked at his face. Alex liked to get huffy whenever things didn't go his way or people didn't act the way he wanted/expected them to, but he was always quick to forget about it. "Are you a little howly-puppy? I've never heard you howl before. Can you howl for daddy?" Alex just licked his chin again. "Howl for daddy?" Alex's tail thumped against the floor as he watched his father's face; he had no idea what Kurt was saying. "Come on, like this: A-wooo."

Alex's little head cocked to the side, one of his ears flipping inside out. "AR-WOOOO!"

Kurt laughed and fixed Alex's ear. "You are beyond adorable. Come on, let's go have lunch."

Alex started barking aggressively as the doorbell rang. Kurt rolled his eyes; he really hoped Alex's barking phase would end quickly. The baby book said barking was something done mostly by werewolf pups; it _didn't_ say how old they were when they stopped, though. Wolf occasionally let out little happy yips, so maybe Alex would be a barker well into adulthood. Hopefully, he'd at least get over his war with the front door. People weren't allowed to go anywhere near it without Alex going on the defensive. Kurt picked Alex up and held him against his shoulder as he skipped down the stairs.

The bell rang again. "Coming!" Placing Alex on the floor, he reached for the handle and opened the door. _"Blaine_…don't you have school, today?"

His ex-boyfriend smiled at him. "The teachers have a professional development day, so I figured I'd stop by and say 'hi'." Blaine leaned to the side slightly to see around Kurt. Alex poked his head around Kurt's leg and stared nervously at Blaine. "I saw the Facebook pictures; I figured it was about time I met him in person."

"He's a month old. I'm surprised I haven't seen you sooner."

Blaine rocked back and forth on his toes awkwardly, rubbing his hand behind his neck. "I figured you were probably still mad at me for ditching you the way I did."

Kurt stepped aside and let Blaine in; Alex stayed behind Kurt's legs, watching Blaine warily. "I got pregnant barely a week after we broke up; I don't have much right to get mad at you." Blaine smiled and hugged Kurt before kneeling down and holding his knuckles out for Alex to sniff. Alex just backed up behind his father more. "He's a bit of a shy-guy. Me, my family, his dad, Mercedes, and Dave are really the only ones he's friendly with…He _growls_ at Puck."

Blaine snorted and stood back up, accepting temporary defeat. "Can you blame him? I'd probably growl at Puck, too." Blaine brushed his hands over his pants, straightening his trousers back out. "Dave? Dave Karofsky?"

Kurt smiled bashfully, sucking his teeth as he shrugged. "Dave was the midwife. Alex adores him and Dave treats Alex like his best little buddy. He's over here twice a week tutoring me in math and science."

"Huh." It wasn't a statement; it wasn't a question. It was more of a grunt of surprise.

"So how have _you_ been, Blaine?"

xoxoxo

Burt had installed a large, fenced-in pen in the backyard for Alex. Kurt placed him in it with some small squeaky toys while he and Blaine caught up and Blaine helped Kurt with his raking. Alex ignored the toys and viciously attacked a stray leaf that had blown into the pen. He circled the leaf, barking at it then crouching down and growling. Blaine watched Alex, transfixed, as he held a trash bag open for Kurt's leaves. "He is going to be a handful when he gets bigger."

"Well, at least we'll be safe from leaves and mailmen everywhere." Alex pawed at the leaf tentatively. He barked once more before creeping slowly towards it. Kurt grimaced as Alex chomped down on the leaf, quickly swallowing it. "Alex, _no_. Yucky! Don't eat leaves." There was a gate built into the fence that allowed Kurt to enter in. He bent down and wedged his thumb and index finger between Alex's gums, forcing his mouth open. He pulled out what was left of the wet shreds of leaf.

"That is _so_ gross."

"Oh, please. He's eaten _much_ grosser. Ever seen a slug that's been eaten and then regurgitated?" Blaine's face obviously said he never _wanted_ to see that; his lips were curled at the corners. "His pen is only a fifteen foot radius, but you'd be astounded at the things he's able to find. It takes a _lot_ to turn my stomach these days. Babies will do that to you. So…you going to tell me about this new beau of yours?"

Blaine blanched. "I…uh…you…well…um…"

"Jeff told me. It's ok, Blaine. I'm not mad. If I were still alone and lonely, yes, I'd be mad. But I'm happy: for me _and_ for you. Us breaking up was a good thing. I'll never regret the time we _did_ have together, but…things worked out."

Blaine leaned on the side of the fence, smiling wistfully, a slight blush creeping up over his cheeks. "He's incredible. I can't even begin to explain it; he's sassy and feisty and, yeah, I'll admit, he's a complete _jerk_ sometimes, but, the _way_ he does it…it's kind of sexy."

"Awww…Blaine isn't into baby penguins, anymore? You into cheeky little wildcats?" Blaine blushed even brighter. "So, how long have you two been together?"

Blaine pursed his lips to the side, his eyes rolling back as he thought. "Depends on how you define 'together'…and which of us you ask. We started 'hanging out' – what I would think of as 'going out' – a month or two back. He doesn't count that as us being 'together,' though. As far as he's concerned we weren't 'together' until we…you _know_." Blaine smiled a very flat smile that sucked in his cheeks and showed off his dimples.

"You _animal_." Blaine's smile became a wider, toothy smile, as he looked off to the side, rubbing his thumb over one of the posts in the fence. "Oh, come _on_. Don't tell me _you're_ the shy one now, while _I'm_ the outgoing sex-machine."

That seemed to break Blaine of his uncomfortable bashfulness. "A sex-machine, are we now? I'll tell if you tell?"

Kurt looked down at Alex; Alex was play-stalking a stuffed moose with a perfectly round head/torso and four oblong legs. Kurt moved in closer to Blaine, checking over his shoulder once more to make sure Alex wasn't paying attention. "He's like a big old puppy; he's sweet and playful and silly. He's absolutely incredible. And he's…he's…" Kurt's voice got low and rough while his eyes went smoky, "_huge_. I mean, it's inhuman how big he is…well he _isn't_ human, so I guess that goes without saying, but I swear…a centaur has _nothing_ on this guy."

"So I take it he's huge. But is he 'talented?'"

Kurt scoffed. "Oh, you have _no_ idea. I don't have _anything_ to compare it to really, but I _feel_ things. Things I didn't think possible."

"Sebastian and I…Sebastian is a complete control freak. He's rough and bossy. He's a bit… '_freaky'_ too."

Kurt balled his hands into fists and shook them excitedly up near his shoulders, keeping his elbows tight at his sides. "Tell, tell, _tell_!"

Blaine glanced around conspiratorially "When we're in bed, Sebastian likes to hold me down and just… _ugh_, he's _brutal,_ Kurt. It's _amazing_ though, because he can take it just as much as he gives it. And…I'm sure this will gross you out a bit-"

"I'm having sex with a _werewolf_."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Just because you think werewolves are kinky, doesn't mean you'll approve of _other_ people's kinks."

"So what _is_ your kink, Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine leaned in close to Kurt, his eyes glinting with a red tinge. Kurt had seen it before: blood lust. "He likes it when I bite him."

"Isn't that illegal?" Kurt and Blaine both jumped. They spotted David by the side of the house, where the lawn met the end of the driveway, at the same time. He'd apparently surprised Alex, as well, because the pup started barking and wagging his tail.

"David." Kurt leaned against the fence, his eyes wide as he watched David approach the far side of the pen and stroke Alex through the slats in the fence. "I wasn't expecting you, today."

David looked between Kurt and Blaine, trying to assess the situation. "Yeah, well, I had to go get some stuff at Walmart and picked some stuff up for Alex while I was there: some toys."

"I'm sure Alex will be thrilled. He's already thrilled just that you're visiting." Alex was jumping against the fence, trying to jump over it with as much success as he had jumping into Kurt's lap that morning.

"My boyfriend _asks_ me to bite him, ok?"

David scoffed as he scratched behind Alex's ear; he must have found a good spot because Alex began thumping his back leg up and down. "How old is he?"

"Seventeen…why's that matter? He's the same age as me."

David stood back up, prompting Alex to try and jump the fence again. "He's a minor. It doesn't matter if he _wants_ you to bite him; he can't legally make that decision."

"What _my_ boyfriend and I do in the privacy of our _own_ bedrooms has nothing to do with you." Blaine and David slowly moved towards one another during their exchange, posturing and glaring at one another.

"Chill out _both_ of you!" Blaine's neck snapped to the left, David's to the right as they both faced Kurt, yet they kept their bodies facing one another. "You are two of my best friends. _David"_ David gulped at the way Kurt said his name; stern and authoritarian. It wasn't a tone he could just _not_ listen to. "I get that you hate unhumans, but Blaine and his boyfriend _aren't_ your concern. You aren't a slayer, yet, no matter how badly you _want_ to be one. Please, just stay out of Blaine's business…as a favor to me?" David sucked in his lower lip and pointedly avoided eye contact with either Kurt of Blaine. Kurt took that as a concession and turned to face his other friend. "Blaine, you need to be patient with David. Please? He has very _justifiable_ issues with unhumans." Blaine pulled the same face as David, but then nodded, wrapping his arms across his chest.

"So, David, what'd you get for Alex? I think he understood you when you said 'toy'." The three boys looked down at Alex who had his muzzle poked between the slats in the fence and was trying to bite at the plastic bag in David's hand.

David smiled down at Alex, the presence of the vampire all but forgotten. He pulled out a red bouncy ball from the bag: the same kind used in dodge ball. David dropped it into Alex's pen, and watched as it bounced once and then rolled towards Alex. Alex let out an undignified squeak before running behind his daddy's legs. He hid there for a minute, peeking out between Kurt's legs at the ball that was just a bit smaller than himself. David pushed the gate open and went into the pen, laughing at Alex. "It's ok, Mr. Fluffypants." David got down on his knees and batted the ball slowly back and forth between his palms. "It ok. Just a ball."

"He doesn't have any balls that big. And most of his toys are soft."

Alex crept towards the ball and sniffed it. He pushed his nose against it before barking at it and retreating behind David. "Ok. Maybe balls are a bit too scary for now." David rolled the ball to the other side of the pen so Alex could choose if he wanted to go near it. Feeling a tugging on his pants, David turned around to see Alex tugging the lanyard on David's car keys. Alex whipped his head back and forth, pulling the lanyard out of David's pockets. "Well if that's what you're into, you'll love your other toy." David pulled a colorful rope out of the bag. It was one of those short lengths of rope that was intended for playing tug-o-war with dogs.

"Oh, dear lord. You may have actually topped Sheldon the Sheep with that one."

David dangled the rope in front of Alex, tickling his nose with the loose strands at the end. Alex nipped at the nuisance, before jumping up and grabbing at the knot in the rope. He growled when he got it in his teeth and began trying to pull the toy away from David. Alex may have had a relatively deep bark, but his growl was high with a bit of a whine behind it. David pulled the rope softly, dragging Alex a foot across the lawn before the pup lost his grip on the rope.

Blaine watched David with a sense of unease. David was a closeted, homophobic asshole who had hurt Kurt and obviously had issues with unhumans and, worse, wanted to be a _slayer_. How could Kurt possibly trust him around his _son_?


	13. Bonding Time

**Please, please, please**

**If you're going to ask questions in the reviews, give me a way of responding to you! Guest accounts and "no private messaging allowed" accounts make it hard for me to respond!**

**xoxoxo**

It took Wolf some time to build up the courage to pass out of the safety of the woods and the Redzone and into the human-world of Kurt's backyard; it did every time he went into Kurt's house. Kurt waited for him on the back porch though, smiling broadly. Wolf could never let his mate down. He stepped out of the shadows of the trees and into the faint light of the backdoor. He had just taken another step when a soft, faraway sound met his ears: a little _Arrrr-woooo_, coming from somewhere inside the house. He stopped short.

The skin on Wolf's forehead drew tight as his ears pricked up; his pupils dilated as he subconsciously sought out the source of the noise. Aside from his father – not Human's father, _his_ father: the creature that had made him – he had never met another werewolf before. Yet, instinctively, he knew that what he had just heard was the sound of another werewolf. Logically, he realized that that was his _son_ that he had heard. Wolf dropped down to all fours, lifted his head, plastered his ears back against his head and responded to the tiny howl with one of his own. _**ARRRrrr-WWWOOOOO**__!_

xoxoxo

Kurt felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Alex had a cute little squeaky puppy-howl. Wolf had a deep, intimidating howl: one that evolution had instructed him to fear and cower from. He had to fight back that fleeting urge to flee. This was _Wolf_: his boyfriend and the father of his baby.

The house was quiet after Wolf howled, almost as though he had shocked it into silence. But then, once the shock had worn off, Kurt could hear Alex start up on his barking, upstairs. Alex had somehow known his father was in the woods about ten minutes before Kurt had planned on going downstairs to check and had started barking then, but had quieted down, eventually. Now that he had confirmation that his other father was here, the barking had returned full-force.

Wolf padded up the stairs to Kurt and rubbed the length of his body against Kurt's side as he passed into the kitchen. Kurt stroked the soft, dark fur as he followed alongside his mate. Wolf sauntered up the stairs without Kurt's direction; Kurt had made it known to Wolf during the previous full moon that he was more than welcome here. Wolf stopped in front of Kurt's door, gave it a cursory sniff, and then continued passed it to the second door. He stared at the doorknob before attempting to open it. Kurt, afraid Wolf would accidently rip the knob off of the door, placed his hand over Wolf's long, clawed fingers and helped him grip it and turn it. Wolf entered into Alex's nursery and Kurt was about to follow when Wolf halted.

xoxoxo

Wolf hadn't known what to expect when he met his son the previous full moon, but he had had certain expectations this time around (mostly based off of what he'd seen last time). His expectations were not met. Alex was almost twice as big as last time. He was walking around, his eyes were open, and he seemed very intelligent and aware of his environment. If Wolf weren't so happy to see his son, he'd whimper in anguish. His son wasn't even two months old and he'd already managed to miss so much of his son's growth. Was this how it would always be? The full moon would wane for the month, Wolf would go back to being some dormant aspect of Human's life and completely miss out on his son's life until the full moon waxed again? His son's life would exist to him as only tiny little snapshots: like the pictures Kurt's family hung over the stairs: moments in time, frozen by memory. A life told in poorly orchestrated stop-motion animation.

Would his son even know who he _was?_

Apparently so. Alex ran up to him as soon as he had entered the room and began jumping up at him, trying to lick his face with a tiny pink tongue that was not as tiny as it had been the last time Wolf had seen him. For his son's sake, Wolf put aside his despair and decided to enjoy what few moments he had with his son for what they were and not lament what they should have been. Wolf lowered his head so that Alex could get at it more easily. Alex clambered up his face, trying to lick the top of Wolf's head, between his ears. Wolf flipped his head up, causing Alex to fly backwards onto his back. Wolf heard a gasp of alarm come from Kurt, somewhere off to his side, but ignored it. Alex looked at Wolf with a gaze of confusion before barking happily and lunging at his father's head once more.

Alex nipped at his father, eagerly trying to "take him down." Wolf, in turn, play fought with his son: gently grabbing him between his teeth and shaking him much the same way Alex "attacked" his toys. When Alex got out of his father's jaw, he grabbed at Wolf's ear with his needle-like teeth, and held on as his father tried to shake him off.

Kurt dangled something beside Wolf, just inside his peripheral vision. "Play tug-of-war with him." Wolf looked at the rope Kurt held. A memory - one from his and Human's mutual childhood - stirred in his mind's eye. He knew tug-of-war; he remembered this game. Alex fell from Wolf's ear and landed with an "oomph" on the floor as Wolf grabbed one end of the rope in his mouth. He dangled it in front of Alex who pawed at it before sinking his teeth into the other end. Alex backed up, trying to pull the rope away from his father while growling at him. Wolf pretended to struggle and moved forward several inches so that Alex would think he was winning the fight. It brought back another thing he remembered from his childhood; Human's father would let Human win at sports. It had always been very obvious that Human's father was just faking; yet, it still made Human feel good about himself.

There was a momentary flash of light, causing Wolf to whip his head up. Kurt laughed at him as he held up the shiny blue rectangle that had flashed at him. It flashed again. _Camera_: another one of Human's memories. "Oh, my god. Look how cute he is!" Wolf looked down to see what Kurt was talking about. Alex still hung by the end of the rope, his back paws dangling inches above the floor, as he continued to growl and try to take the rope from his father. Kurt took another picture.

Wolf and Alex played like that for hours: sometimes fighting over toys like the rope, or biting at each other, or wrestling. His son would make a fierce fighter someday. Wolf knocked his head gently against Alex's side, causing him to roll onto his side. He'd done that dozens of times to Alex already, but this time Alex didn't get back up. Wolf craned his neck towards Alex and looked him over: momentarily terrified he'd hurt his son. Alex just batted a paw at Wolf's muzzle, before weakly rolling back onto his stomach. He was having trouble getting his legs beneath his body and once he did, they wobbled furiously as he tried to stand.

Kurt knelt down and scooped him up. "It's almost two in the morning; Alex is exhausted. It's time for him to go to sleep." Kurt held the baby out for Wolf. Wolf, not understanding really, since he hadn't 'slept' in years, lightly poked Alex with his nose and sniffed at him. Kurt, thinking that was a 'kiss,' placed Alex down in the crib. Wolf stood up, and leaned down into the crib. He poked his muzzle at Alex a few more times, trying to get his pup to move, but Alex just whined quietly. "He's not going to wake up for a while: probably not until well passed breakfast, anyway."

Kurt held his wrist behind his back and toed at the ground with a single foot. "Since the two of you can't play anymore, and you and I haven't had any 'grown-up' time in a while, I was thinking maybe tonight we could? I'm on medication so Alex won't get any surprise brothers or sisters."

There was a pleasant smell wafting from Kurt that was subtly growing stronger; Wolf knew that smell, he _loved_ that smell. Evidence of Wolf's excitement became apparent and not just by his wagging tail, either.

Kurt raised his hand up to Wolf's head and started scratching behind his ear. A soft, pleased moan, sounding like a low growl, escaped Wolf's throat as he tilted his head into the touch. Kurt lowered his arm and took Wolf's paw into his own hand. Tugging softly, he guided Wolf to his bedroom.

xoxoxo

If there was one thing Wolf was good at, it was prepping Kurt. Kurt was thoroughly convinced Wolf's tongue was more efficient and effective than any lubricant currently available on the market. Kurt had gleaned enough from other people's discussions about sex to know that "rim jobs" were supposed to be incredibly pleasurable and erotic; however, Kurt was too busy trying not to giggle to notice. If, before he had met Wolf, someone had asked him if he were ticklish, he could quite safely say 'no.' Now, though…not so much. Kurt bit down on his lips to keep from laughing as Wolf's tongue went someplace particularly clever. His leg tensed and squeezed against Wolf's back, pushing his boyfriend's face closer.

Wolf pulled back slightly and licked along Kurt's pulsing erection before moving farther up Kurt's body. Kurt moved his leg and wrapped it around Wolf's waist while he ran the foot on his other leg up and down Wolf's calf. Wolf began slowly rutting against him and Kurt moaned softly at the feel of his boyfriend's penis pushing against his crack. He angled his hips up and squeaked out in surprise as the head of Wolf's cock breached his hole. Kurt wrapped his second leg around Wolf's waist and locked his ankles together, allowing Wolf free-reign to pound him into the mattress.

Wolf gripped Kurt by the hips, careful not to press his claws into the soft flesh. He pulled Kurt closer and angled his hips so that he could thrust stronger and faster. Kurt dug his fingers into Wolf's back, tangling them in the soft, downy fur. Wolf sat back so that he was sitting on his heals, but kept his grip on Kurt's hips so that Kurt was upright as well. He lifted Kurt up a few inches and shoved him back down on his erection, thrusting his hip upwards as he did so.

Kurt's entire body felt like it was getting consumed by a beautiful, wonderful fire. His toes curled up and he pulled at Wolf's fur, trying to keep a grip on his boyfriend. Wolf lifted him up again and dropped him back down as he thrust. Kurt bit at the crook between Wolf's neck and his shoulder, trying to stifle his moans; Alex might not wake up, but someone else always could. When Kurt bit Wolf, Wolf picked up his pace and began thrusting almost violently into Kurt, prompting Kurt to bite harder. Wolf kept up his breathtaking piston-ing. That, coupled with the friction of Kurt's cock rubbing against Wolf's stomach, was the catalyst for Kurt's orgasm. As his cum splattered into Wolf's fur, Kurt could feel his entire body go limp as he suddenly felt light-headed and exhausted. Wolf kept pounding into Kurt's rag-doll body.

Kurt was pretty certain he got hard and came again, but he was so drained and his brain felt so fuzzily, blissed-out that he couldn't even keep his eyes open.

xoxoxo

Kurt was asleep when Wolf finally released into Kurt's nice, tight little ass. Wolf licked at Kurt's face, grooming the sweat off of his forehead. He cleaned up the rest of Kurt's body before cleaning the cum out of his own fur. He cuddled around Kurt's body, spooning him as he slept. Kurt's breathing was slow and deep: very soothing. Wolf thought he might fall asleep himself, but he could feel the night ending. The closer it got to dawn, the more he could feel a tugging in his stomach: like his body was trying to rip inside out. He stayed with Kurt as long as he felt he could. Eventually, he couldn't risk it any longer. He disentangled himself from Kurt's arms, only disturbing him enough to make him roll over and burrow back into his pillows.

It took him a bit of effort to get the door open; doorknobs were not easy to operate. He was careful and quiet as he padded down the stairs; he had paid attention to where the squeaky boards were every other time he'd come up or down the stairs. He went through the kitchen and froze when he saw Kurt's father sitting at the table, coffee in hand. Burt Hummel stared blankly at him. He was dressed in a grey button down cotton shirt with a worn-out, grey ball cap. Part of Wolf recognized the clothing as Burt's work uniform. "He deserves _so_ much better than you." Wolf's ears lowered. "They both do. And if you don't figure yourself out, they're gonna _find_ better than you." Wolf lowered his head; even if he _could_ talk, he wouldn't have disagreed.


	14. Snuff

******To Powerlad - Jawohl, mein herr**

******Someone suggested responding to anonymous reviews in the A/Ns. I'd do that if they weren't asking for spoilers. I have no issues giving spoilers (usually), but I'm not going to post them where anyone can accidentally see.  
**

******Also, I'm back from my vacation! I went to Universal (Amaaazzzziiiinnngggg! I'm already suffering butterbeer withdrawal), so things should get back to more predictable updating. I wrote four chapters of Big Bad Wolf on the plane ride, but unfortunately for you, they occur further along in the story (I don't think linearly, so I usually don't write chapters in order of publication). Although, these chapters address the question I get most often: "who'll realize David and Wolf are the same person, first?". I can tell you flat out, Alex already knows. As Wolf 'mentions' at one point, his scent doesn't change, so Alex has it figured out. Too bad he can't talk...  
**

**A/N: Ok, obviously if Blaine and Kurt broke up, Blaine never would have gone to McKinley; therefore, auditions for _West Side Story_ would have gone differently. You'll see why I mention this.  
**

xoxoxo

The halls of McKinley were empty, and the echo of David's footsteps made them seem even emptier. Most of the football team had already cleared out of the locker rooms and gone out to the field, but David had been kept after class for detention due to a fight. He got into a lot of fights these days; fights because of the Bully Whips, fights because he'd never been very popular even before the Bully Whips, and fights about Kurt. He felt compelled to protect Kurt for some reason; anytime he heard anyone talking smack about Kurt or Alex he felt like he _had_ to step in. It was just a necessity.

He was already late for football practice and was seriously debating the point of going at all. He hated football, he hated his teammates (it was one of them he had fought with that morning), and he hated the fact that showing up late would draw attention to himself. He didn't want to be the center of attention; he wanted to go to school, do his work, and slip by unnoticed.

Somewhere in the school down a hallway out of his path, he heard a familiar woofing. David shook his head, trying to clear his mind of what had to have been an illusion. Kurt couldn't really be _that_ stupid, could he? Bringing a werewolf pup to _school_? To _McKinley_? He heard it again.

Rounding the corner, he followed the perceived direction of the noise. Another corner, then another. He almost literally walked into Kurt. "Oh, David!" Kurt brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. "You startled me."

David looked from Kurt, to Alex, and back to Kurt. "You're joking, right?" David threw glances up and down the hallway, making sure they were alone. "What the hell are you two doing here?"

Kurt shifted Alex from one arm to the other, looking part-appalled, part-confused at David's outburst. "I'm bringing Alex to meet the glee club. They're all dying to see him."

David heaved a beleaguered sigh. "You can't be _serious_. I _know_ that you're a really good person Kurt, you want to believe that nothing bad ever happens, but you _can't_ be dense enough to think the football team won't hurt you – hurt _him_ – if they catch you two, here."

"That's why I usually only come on days when there isn't football practice. But with the opening night of the musical so near, I have to come in every day to rehearse."

"Wait, waitwaitwait wait. You come to school still? And if you come on days when there isn't football practice, why not bring him one of _those_ days?"

"Yes, I still come to school – mostly glee and rehearsals for the musical. I _am_ still a registered student here, you know? Carol watches Alex on those days. But tonight's supposed to be a late rehearsal. We don't get out until nine. Long _a__fter _football practice lets out. We should be fine."

"Yes, fine, after the football team lets out of practice, but _just in time_ for the hockey team to get out of their game tonight."

Kurt looked embarrassed about that. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh.' And what musical?"

With that magic word – _musical_ – Kurt's embarrassment was forgotten. His demeanor immediately bubbled up into excitement. "Oh my god, you didn't know? We're doing _West Side Story_. I'm Tony." Kurt straightened up, striking a pose for David. David had never seen _West Side Story_ but assumed Tony must be important if Kurt was so excited. "How could you _not_ know? I mean, Coach Sylvester threw an absolute _fit_."

David shrugged. "I don't pay attention to what goes on around here, really. I'm just trying to finish up and get out."

"If I had known you didn't know, I would have tried talking you into auditioning. You could be one of the Jets…or the Sharks. Whichever." David furrowed his brow. He had no idea if Kurt was actually talking _about_ something, or just rambling. Jets? Sharks? Was it a musical about football teams? "But anyway…since you're so worried about me and Alex, why don't you be our bodyguard tonight? You can hang out, watch us rehearse…OH! You can be like a trial audience. That'll be _perfect_."

David didn't really get a chance to object. Kurt grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the auditorium. He couldn't say 'no' to Kurt. He couldn't say 'no' to Alex, either. Alex had been trying to clamber out of Kurt's arms and into David's the second he had spotted David.

When they got to the auditorium, Kurt pulled open one of the steel doors and leaned down to place Alex on the floor. Alex jumped up and started trying to (unsuccessfully) scale David's leg. Kurt turned Alex around to face the stage and the little pup looked up expectantly at his father. Kurt gave him a little nudge. Finn, down in front of the stage, gave an ear-piercing whistle that set Alex off running. The small ball of fur charged down the aisle and leapt into his uncles open arms, his tail wagging frantically.

The girls of the glee club 'ooh-ed' and 'aaww-ed' over Alex, much to Alex's delight. He eagerly sniffed at everyone, trying to get a good idea of who they were, whether he'd met them before, whether they'd eaten anything interesting in the past day. The guys were a bit less _loud_ in their appreciation of the pup, but pet him nonetheless. "He's getting a lot better with people."

Kurt scoffed. "He's a little attention whore."

"Hmmm…I wonder where he gets that from?"

Kurt elbowed David playfully as they walked side by side down the aisle towards the stage.

xoxoxo

David held onto Alex throughout most of the rehearsal, only occasionally passing him off to someone who wasn't on stage and wasn't in need of preparing for a return to the stage. Artie and Mr. Schuester gave stage directions, occasionally commenting on the fact that things would be slightly different with the football players at rehearsal tomorrow. David had no idea that some of the football players were backup dancers or background characters. He really needed to talk to people more often.

Alex howled through some of the songs, especially Rachel's practice-run of "Tonight," but everyone took it in good stride and coo-ed over how cute Alex was, or joked about Alex joining the glee club. During some of the louder instrumental pieces, Alex burrowed his head under David's armpit, hiding from the noise. David ran his fingers over the fur between Alex's ears and lightly scratched the base of Alex's left ear. He couldn't hear, so much as feel, the little whimper-y growls coming from the disturbed werewolf. It was like a soft vibration throughout David's side. He calmed down after the louder orchestrations had subsided, but then he started fidgeting oddly.

"Boop." David tried looking over his shoulder, but couldn't do it very easily without shifting Alex. "Boop." Both times David heard someone say 'boop', Alex pulled his head back slightly and then lurched forward, deeper under David's armpit. Lifting his arm and slinging it across the next seat over, David found he could look over his shoulder as well as see what Alex was doing. Tina sat behind them. She was leaned forward and kept poking at Alex's nose saying 'boop' as she did so. Each 'boop' made Alex draw back slightly, but then he would lurch forward to try and nip at her finger. His teeth weren't bared though, so David knew Alex was playing with Tina as much as Tina was playing with him.

"What are you doing?"

"Boop." Tina poked Alex's nose again. "I am booping the nose."

"You're what?"

Tina rolled her eyes. "Seriously, David. It's called the Internet; try it sometime. Cute things get their noses booped," She 'booped' Alex's nose again, "because they make the cutest faces when you do."

"If he bites you, I'm gonna be too busy pointing and laughing to be of any help."

"Shuddup. He likes me." Affirming Tina's statement, Alex licked excitedly at her hand, which still hovered over his nose. She had a black ring on her index finger, shaped to look like a two-legged dragon. Alex sniffed at it, before attempting to bite at it, testing to see if it tasted interesting. Alex, realizing the ring was too hard to eat, went back to licking Tina's hand. Tina smiled haughtily at David in an "I told you so" kind of way, before sitting back in her chair. Alex stared at her for a minute before deciding she wasn't going to play with him anymore. He started turning circles in David's lap before he laid down, tucking one paw over the other, placing his head down and watching the performances up on stage.

David envied Alex; Alex could sleep through the performance, if he wanted to. Kurt would kick David's ass if he attempted the same thing. David couldn't stand the jarring sound of the orchestra or the flamboyant, overly-theatrical, unnatural movements of the choreography. Puck's Spanish accent was painful, Rachel was anything but "desirable," and – as loath as David was to admit it – Kurt was a flop. David had paid enough attention to the rehearsal to know Kurt was supposed to be a gang member, but David just couldn't buy it. Kurt wasn't macho, wasn't a "bad boy." He was sweet and delicate. Yes, he had attitude and knew how to use it, but it was kind of like getting barked at by a chihuahua: you couldn't take it seriously.

But David could do his own fair bit of acting; he'd learned shortly after his mother's death how to pretend he was fine when the world was crashing around him. Right now, he smiled and clapped enthusiastically when he just wanted to shake his head in dismay. Kurt was happy; Kurt was having fun. David could pretend he was, as well, if it made Kurt even happier.

After the rehearsal, David gushed to Kurt how much he loved the performance, as he walked him to his car. He didn't want to flat out lie to Kurt, so he emphasized the things he had noticed weren't bad. "You had, like, a phenomenal relationship with the music."

"I think I was off on a few counts, but, you know, this is my first musical, so I think it's just pre-performance jitters."

"I didn't notice it at all, and honestly, everyone that knows anything about music is going to be up there on stage with you, anyway." David ruffled Alex's fur with his free hand, cradling him in the crook of his other arm. "You created a nice chemistry with Rachel; your history with Rachel really helped shine through. It helped create that…_connection_ between you two."

"What the fuck is this dog-fucking faggot doing here?"

Kurt stumbled backwards as David held his arm out, preventing Kurt from moving any closer to Rick. Alex growled; he could tell from the tension and Rick's tone that something bad was going on. "Just keep walking, Rick." David sounded like he was growling, as well.

"Should I, now?" Rick looked David over, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Ah, whatever. I'll probably go on my way. I'm not stupid enough to mess with a fucking psychopath like you. After all, you were voted most likely to go all Columbine on the school after your mom ran off with that werewolf." Rick smirked, having just thought of something 'clever'. "You know, I wonder if Kurt here's screwing that same werewolf that – ahem – _screwed your family_." David shoved Alex at Kurt and started proceeding towards Rick. Kurt placed a single hand on David's elbow, halting him immediately. "Hit a soft spot there, didn't I? Hey, Kurt." Kurt glared at Rick. "I'd be careful trusting that rabid molerat around David. You know he jerks off to werewolf snuff films, right?"

David straightened out, his head going up, his eyes going wide.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Nelson. I've heard why they call you 'The Stick.' It really is just a little twig, isn't it?" David wanted to hug Kurt for that. David and Rick had been going at it for years; no one had ever defended David from Rick before. "Or should I say Rick 'The Pencil Dick' Nelson?"

Rick's lips twitched into a sneer for a minute. "Watch it Hummel. Everyone knows where you live; no one in Lima has a whole lot of love for werewolves after what happened way back when. Wouldn't it be so sad if something bad happened to him?" Rick jutted out his chin, indicating Alex, who continued to growl, low and loud. With that, Rick turned around and walked back down the hall.

David and Kurt took the first available turn in the hall, deciding to find a different way out to the parking lot. "David…" David looked down at Kurt. "What's a snuff film?"

David sighed. Of course it was too good to be true that Kurt already knew what Rick was talking about and had discounted it as too horrible to be true. "They're videos of people getting murdered."

"So a werewolf snuff film would be a werewolf getting killed? Or a werewolf killing someone?" Kurt debated covering Alex's ears, or saving the conversation for a later time, but so far, evidence suggested Alex understood very little of what went on around him, so would unlikely remember anything that was said here today.

"Werewolf getting killed."

"I…Rick's not telling the truth, is he?"

David squeezed his eyes shut, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Depends on how you define 'true'." Kurt stopped dead in his tracks, looking at David with a slightly shocked and accusatory glance. David stopped walking as well. "It was a few years ago. Az and I pirated a really horrible horror movie made in some third world country. 'Horrible' meaning 'crappy.' It was about a werewolf terrorizing some village and killing a bunch of people. Az and I found out, after the fact, that for the final scene in the movie, where the werewolf is caught, tortured and killed by the angry villagers, a real werewolf had been caught and used. We didn't know at the time and I definitely didn't…get _sexual pleasure_ out of it. Of course, once word got out…things snowballed."

Kurt nodded, but was silent for a while, making David nodded. "I trust you, you know? With Alex. Alex loves you and you've never been anything but wonderful with him."

David smiled as he and Kurt started walking down the hall again. "It's hard to make Alex matchup with the traditional idea of werewolves. And it's definitely impossible not to love him." David reached over to pet Alex, his fingers accidentally brushing against Kurt's chest as he did so. David blushed and took his hand back.

"So, speaking of Alex, I was kind of wondering what you were doing next Friday?"

David narrowed his eyes as he searched his memory. "Nothing much, I think. I mean, nothing that's _scheduled: _just homework and chore type stuff."

"The _West Side Story_ performances are next week. My dad and Carol wanted to come watch, and of course Alex couldn't come see it, and everyone I trust with Alex is either going to be watching it or _in_ it, so…maybe you could babysit?"

David's eyes went wide. Even if Kurt _didn't _believe David got off on watching werewolves get tortured and killed, the idea had still been planted there. Kurt must _really_ trust him to give him temporary custody of his only child. "Umm…I'd _love_ to."


	15. Hot Diggity Dog

**One of you guessed correctly who'd be the one to piece everything together...not saying who though!**

**xoxoxo**

"There's hotdogs in the fridge; he'll eat one of those and a bottle of milk. Just boil the hotdog until it's cooked. If he refuses to eat the hotdog, put mustard on it. He loves mustard. Not ketchup, though. Ketchup does weird things to him…we think he might be sensitive to it. He can kind of get upstairs on his own – he'll usually get confused or bored halfway up – but he can't get back _down_ them so keep the gate closed at the bottom of the stairs to prevent him going up to begin with. He has a basket of stuffed animals and balls in the living room, so he shouldn't need to go upstairs. You can take him outside if you want, but he _has_ to be in his pen while he's out there. If he has to go potty, he'll just go to his puppy mat. You have my phone number, as well as Finn's. My parents' numbers are on the fridge. Call if absolutely _anything_ goes wrong. We should be home around ten, ten thirty or so. He'll start falling asleep around nine; just put him in his crib and lay his blanket over him. His nightlight turns on automatically and goes off automatically. The baby monitor is by my bed in my room, so once he goes to sleep you can grab that to keep an ear on him. Any questions?"

David looked around the living room; he could see Alex's basket of toys, the gate was already set up at the bottom of the stairs, the pee mat was in the corner, there were a few kids' DVDs sitting on top of the DVD player, everything seemed to be in order for Alex. "Um...nope. I think we're good here."

David began escorting Kurt to the front door where Burt and Carol were already waiting. Finn was at Rachel's house and would be accompanying her to the performance. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Kurt had passed the front door and stood on the top step of the stairs. He turned around and grabbed the front door to prevent David from shutting it. "You're absolutely sure?"

"Yes, Kurt. Calm down." David placed his foot in the open doorway to prevent Alex from scuttling after his father. "I'm fine; Alex will be fine; your performance will be amazing. Now hurry up and get going before you're late." Kurt exchanged nervous glances between Alex and David as Carol dragged him off towards his father's SUV.

David shut the door after Kurt, careful to be mindful of Alex's head. Alex stared at the closed front door, sitting on his rump as he wiggled his tail back and forth. "All right, monkey-man." Alex turned around and followed after David, lunging at David's heels as David walked around the couch and plopped himself down. "I've never babysat, before," Alex jumped up onto the couch to sit next to David, leaning both his paws into David's thigh as leverage so he could get closer to David's face: presumably to lick him. "And I can't remember ever _being_ babysat. I'm trusting you not to take advantage of me with your cuteness." Alex just looked up at David, his mouth open and tongue hanging out. His appearance lacked any and all hint of comprehension. "What would you like to do first? Would you like to play?"

Alex barked once before jumping off the couch and running over to his toy basket. Apparently David had said at least one word Alex recognized. Over the next five minutes, Alex took every toy out of the basket. He kept running over to David with them, David would take whatever toy Alex had at the moment and throw it for Alex. Alex would then chase after it, get distracted as soon as he got near the toy basket, grab another toy and return to David with the new toy. Very quickly, there were toys all over the living room, dining room, and even a few in the kitchen. Alex had the nerve to look mildly confused when he looked in his toy basket and discovered all of the toys "missing." David just shook his head and got up to start collecting them and returning them to the basket. He leaned over to pick up a blue penguin that seemed to be filled with uncooked rice or plastic pellets. When he straightened back out, cradling an armload of toys against his chest, he spotted a frameless picture handing behind glass on the wall. It was a picture of Wolf, his body curled up like a dog's, his head resting on Alex's sleeping form.

So that was it: the face of the enemy.

David dumped the last armload of toys back in Alex's basket before returning to the picture – fixated, fascinated. His hand hovered over the glass; the reflection of his hand on the shiny surface distracted him momentarily from the contents of the picture. But only momentarily. It was disturbing how at ease…how _at home_…Wolf looked cuddling with Alex. His 'son.' David snarled; it disgusted him. Wolf had no claim to Alex beyond genetic similarity. Wolf was with him, at best, three nights a month. David was with him two, three times a _week_. David removed the picture from the wall and retreated to the couch, staring at it as he sat. Alex jumped up next to him, a weasel-like toy in his mouth. He squeaked it once to get David's attention.

"Word-of-the-day, Alex: _deadbeat_. Can you say 'deadbeat'?" Of course Alex couldn't, but it made David feel better to finally be able to trash-talk Wolf to _someone_. He tilted the picture, trying to get rid of the light glare bouncing off the glass. Instead, the image became distorted with a reflection of David's own face, layered over the image in the picture. Wolf had no right to Alex, no right to Kurt. David was the one that was always there for them; David was the one that cared about them; David was the one that protected them; David was the one that _deserved_ them.

David placed the picture down on the coffee table before he became overwhelmed with the urge to throw it. "You hungry, Alex?"

xoxoxo

David held the bottle out for Alex; Alex ran at it, attacking the nipple as though it were his mortal enemy. Watching the way Alex gnawed at the rubber tip, David's own nipples twinged in sympathy for the inanimate object. Alex's tail slapped back and forth like a clock pendulum on fast forward, causing him to lose his balance several times. A little stream of milk trickled out of the corner of Alex's mouth, staining his dark grey fur white before disappearing as it absorbed into the fluff.

David pulled the bottle away from a reluctant Alex, who clamped his teeth down trying to keep his grip on the bottle. David won out and Alex was forced to calm down and breath. Alex tried to make another grab for the bottle but lurched to a stop. He momentarily went cross-eyed and his mouth opened slowly. Next thing David knew, Alex was rapid-fire sneezing, forcing little milk bubbles to balloon out of his nose and then pop, leaving snotty, milky snort dribbling from his muzzle. "You are just a disgusting little wreck, aren't you?"

Alex sneezed once more for good measure.

"God bless you. Now would you like some hotdog to go with your boogers?" Alex wiped his tongue over his nose and muzzle in response. "That is friggin' disgusting. Although, I suppose it could be rather useful to be able to pick your own nose with your _tongue_. I'm not sure how…but I suppose it _could_ be useful."

Alex wolfed his hotdog down (no pun intended). Kurt had told David that Alex only needed one hotdog, but Alex still looked hopefully at his plate. It looked like he was trying to _will_ the miraculous appearance of another hotdog. "You're a growing werewolf. A hotdog and bottle of milk is _not_ enough for a little runt like you." David scrounged around through the cupboards, trying to locate an acceptable treat for Alex. There were cookies and chips in the cabinet, but David didn't think they would live up to Kurt's standards of what made acceptable snacks for a baby who was still only a few months old. There were some wheat thins in the cabinet, as well, but David wouldn't force those upon his worst enemy. Nothing in the refrigerator was of any interest, but the freezer proved a treasure trove of frozen treats: king cones, choco-tacos, ice cream bars, a pint of Haagen-Daz vanilla ice cream. David decided that last choice was probably the least likely to get him in trouble; vanilla was probably the healthiest ice cream option.

David collected a bowl and spoon while Alex tried sucking the last few drops of milk out of his bottle. When David took the bowl of ice cream out to the living room, he didn't even have to call for Alex. Alex took one look at David's retreating form and chased after him, trotting like a miniature pony. Before David could even sit down, Alex was already on the couch trying to figure out how to climb into David's lap, either to get closer to David, or to get closer to the interesting new food David was holding. "Hold up…one minute. Lemme get settled." David scooped up a tiny spoonful of the ice cream and held it out for Alex. Alex didn't even bother sniffing at the spoon; instead, he just licked at the white glob, pushing it off the spoon and into David's lap. David hadn't so much as gotten the chance to chastise Alex for being such a messy eater before Alex was licking up the mess from David's knee. David took a bite of ice cream for himself, not caring that the spoon already had puppy drool on it. He gave Alex another spoonful of ice cream and they continued sharing back and forth, with Alex trying to climb over to the bowl every time it was David's turn for a bite. When the bowl was empty, David decided to let Alex have his way and handed it over for the pup to lick clean.

The photo of Wolf with Alex caught his eye, again. Wolf's head rested on top of Alex, who had his little body stretched out on what appeared to be Kurt's bed. It was amazing to see the size difference between 'father' (David didn't think Wolf worthy of the title) and son. Alex's entire body was more or less the same size as Wolf's head. Alex had an incredible amount of growing to do if he ever hoped to match his sire.

When Alex had finished up the last drops of vanilla, contrary to David's expectations, he settled down and curled up in David's lap. "All right little buddy. You want to relax for a bit?" David toed his sneakers off before reclining on the couch, his head supported by the arm, his feet elevated by the other arm of the couch. Alex moved up farther on David so his body was on David's chest and his head was nestled under David's chin.

xoxoxo

As sleep slowly left him, he got that strange sensation when your body is still asleep but your mind wakes up, so noises intrude on your dreams. "Aww…they're so cute together."

"Real cute. He's got his feet on up on _my side_ of the couch."

"Oh, hush Burt. Kurt's right; they're adorable together."

"They're both so cute sleeping like that."

"Don't let _him_ hear you calling him cute. Just 'cause he's ok with you being gay, now, doesn't mean he'll be ok with you crushing on him. That might send him back over the edge."

"I am _not_ crushing on him. I have Wolf."

"Oh well. Wake him up so you can put Alex to bed and then he can go."

Kurt lightly shaking his shoulder forced David to completely wake up, though the sudden jerking motion caused much of what he'd just heard to tumble lose from his memory. "Hey, you're back."

"Yep. And I think it's time for you to go to bed in your _own_ house, mister." Kurt smiled fondly at his friend and son. Kurt was still wearing his outfit from the performance, David noticed.

"Yep. Um…want me to put him to bed?" David stroked absentmindedly at Alex's fur; the werewolf was still asleep, though his limbs twitched.

"You don't have to."

"Can I? I'd like to."

Kurt's smile broadened. "Yeah, sure. I have to go get changed though. You can put him to bed on your own?"

David wrapped his arms around Alex, holding him steady as he stood up from the couch. "I think I can manage tucking him in."

"Great." Kurt walked with David as far as his own room.

David continued on towards the nursery and shut the door after himself. Alex's crib was placed against the right wall, equidistant between the door and the back wall. There was a scraggly tree outside Alex's window that David knew would have given _him_ nightmares when he was little. After placing Alex down in the crib, he drew the curtains over the window. He returned to Alex and pulled a downy, blue blanket over him. Alex harrumphed in contentment and wiggled a little under the blanket, still asleep, but not all the way. David gently ran his knuckles over Alex's head – the soft spot between his ears.

Before he could help himself, David opened his mouth and, in a delicate whisper, began to sing:

_Why are there so many songs about rainbows  
and what's on the other side?  
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,  
and rainbows have nothing to hide.  
So we've been told and some choose to believe it.  
I know they're wrong, wait and see.  
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.  
The lovers, the dreamers and me._

xoxoxo

Kurt had stopped buttoning up his shirt and stood frozen, watching the baby monitor like it was some extraterrestrial.

_Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices?  
I've heard them calling my name.  
Is this the sweet sound that called the young sailors.  
The voice might be one and the same.  
I've heard it too many times to ignore it.  
It's something that I'm supposed to be.  
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.  
The lovers, the dreamers and me._

He smiled a private smile and decided to keep the knowledge of David's ability to sing (very well, he might add) to himself.


	16. Resent

With a final keystroke, Kurt printed out his final admission essay for college. "C'est fini!" Kurt exclaimed excitedly. As the printer shook back and forth, printing off each of Kurt's essays and applications, Alex sniffed at the desk leg, which was also moving thanks to the vigorous actions of the printer cartridge moving back and forth. Alex got bored when he decided that neither the desk nor the printer were alive (and therefore no fun), so he got up, stretched, and then promptly lay back down again. Kurt stood up, stretching his back. He'd been writing all morning; he had decided to knock out everything for his college applications in one shot, rather than piecing it out. Collecting the semi-final drafts from the printer, he headed off towards the kitchen, where Carol was making lunch. He could hear the quiet 'click, click, click' of Alex's claws hitting the tiled floor behind him. Alex had some pretty horrible separation anxiety and couldn't bear to be left alone. "Hey, Carol, could you look over my essays for me?"

Carol was an avid reader and had a far better grasp on the subtleties of the English language than Kurt's father. She wasn't as good with grammar as Kurt, but a second set of eyes never hurt. Burt Hummel, who was seated at the kitchen table reading through the sport's section of the newspaper, didn't take offense at his son not asking him. On the contrary, he was grateful. Burt Hummel would never consider himself uneducated (though he could be overly modest about his intelligence at times), but he wasn't going to delude himself into thinking he was the next great bard. Reading and writing just weren't his thing. "Sure, sweety. Just put them on the table; I'll get to them after lunch."

Kurt listened to his stepmother and placed them at her traditional seat in the breakfast nook. Burt Hummel glanced over from his newspaper to eye Kurt's papers. "What's Amda?"

"A-M-D-A. It's the _American Musical and Dramatic Academy_. It's my second choice for college."

Burt frowned, as he glanced over the other papers, looking for college names, logos and other identifying marks. "What's your first pick?"

"Rachel told me about this _amazing_ college named NYADA. Mrs. Pillsbury told her about it at the beginning of the year. It's incredibly competitive, but…you never know." Kurt shrugged, smiling excitedly about the prospect of NYADA.

"What kind of school is NYADA? Liberal arts? Sciences? Languages?"

Kurt rolled his eyes good naturedly at his father's 'ignorance', as if he himself had known all about NYADA for years. "It's the _New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts_."

"Two schools for dramatic arts?"

"Three."

Burt let out a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "Kurt, I've always supported your dreams of being on Broadway and all that…well maybe not always, but I've done my damnedest to support you. But…things have _changed_. It's all fine and dandy to be a starving artist when you're your only responsibility. But you've got Alex now. You need a real career: something that'll put food on the table. Not some pipe dream."

Kurt's face fell. It broke Burt's heart to see his son look that way, but some things needed to be said. "But…this is what I _want_ out of life."

Burt licked his lips and gathered his thoughts. "I know, buddy. I really do. But this ain't just about _you_ anymore. It ain't ever gonna be just about you, again. You've got a kid to worry about: a kid that's gonna need food, a roof over his head, health care, not to mention all the other little stuff that builds up over time. I know it doesn't sound fair, but how fair is to him if you're in a business that's _notorious_ for being unable to provide steady employment."

"Wolf-"

Burt raised his hand to cut off his son. "Wolf what? Don't you dare say that good-for-nothing is going to provide for you two. You can't even be certain he'll be _there_ for you. All these fancy schools you're looking at, they're in New York. What if Wolf doesn't want to go to New York? Not a whole lot of green spaces out there for a werewolf to run around every full moon."

Kurt looked at Carol for support, backup, anything…but she just stared at the dishrag in her hands. Kurt had a bad feeling that if she _did_ say anything she wouldn't side with Kurt on the matter. Kurt's lip quivered and he snatched up his college application forms and stormed out of the kitchen before he started crying in front of his father. He balled up the papers in his fist and tossed them on the floor before stomping up the stairs. He slammed the door to his bedroom before flinging himself onto his bed and burying his face in his pillows. It wasn't _fair_. Why did things always have to be like this for him? Couldn't anything ever just go the way he wanted?

There was a scratching at his door followed by a whimper. Alex must have followed him up the stairs. He glared at the door for a minute before he pushed himself up off the bed and went to open it for Alex. His son scampered into the bedroom and tried climbing up onto Kurt's bed. He almost made it the second time, but wound up on his back on the floor. Kurt shook his head and lifted Alex up. "When are you going to stop being so helpless about everything?" Alex cocked his head to the side, his little ears perked up, before he tried reaching out to Kurt with his tongue. Kurt dodged the lick and placed Alex down on the bed. Alex's tongue lolled out and the little pup lowered his front half down so that he was crouching: getting ready to pounce. Kurt placed a hand on Alex's rear and put just enough pressure on it to get him to lie down all the way; Alex toppled onto his side, his tongue still hanging out.

Kurt couldn't bring himself to find Alex cute.

As he fully realized that his life was no longer his own, he started uncovering new feelings he'd never thought he'd feel towards his son before. Strange scary feelings. Kurt rolled onto his back so that he wouldn't have to look at Alex as he allowed himself to cry.

xoxoxo

There was a soft knocking at his door that Kurt ignored. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. Not today, at least. Even still, his door opened and he could sense, more than hear, someone come into the room. The bed shifted slightly as someone sat down on the edge of the bed. Somehow, Kurt could tell it was his father, perhaps by his breathing or maybe his scent. Kurt wasn't entirely sure. "You ok, buddy?"

Kurt didn't respond.

"You've been up here an awfully long time." When Kurt still refused to answer, his father continued. "Carol came up here to see what you were doing with Alex about lunch, but you were asleep, so she took him. He's playing with his Kong toy downstairs in the dining room."

"That's fine."

There was a gentle warmth on Kurt's shoulder as Burt placed his hand there. "I know you're upset, Kurt. I get that, I really do. I know it's hard to accept that your life revolves around Alex now, but…that's just how things are. You can't change it, so what choice do you have but to accept it?" When Kurt didn't say anything, Burt rubbed his hand down Kurt's arm. "You gonna be ok?"

"I don't know."

"You wanna talk about it?"

Kurt bit his lip as it started to quiver, again. "I don't know if I can."

"Kurt, you know you can tell me _anything_."

Kurt didn't answer for a long time. Burt was about to say something to encourage him to speak, when Kurt sat up. Drawing his knees close to his chest, Kurt wrapped his arms around them for comfort. "It's Alex."

"What about him?" Burt moved from rubbing Kurt's arm to rubbing his back.

"I think…I think I hate him." Burt felt a horrific tearing in his chest at those words, but Kurt quickly amended them. "No, it's not hate, but it's something strong, and not good and I can't really describe it. When he was in here and I looked at him, I wanted him to _not_ be here. Not just _not here_ as in my room, but…I don't know…I wanted him gone. Just…_gone_. I want my life back. I don't want my every action dictated by _his_ needs, his wants. I want to go to school with my friends; I want to be able to go out without having to scrounge up a babysitter; I want to be able to eat without him sitting at my feet begging, or up in my lap trying to snatch food from me; I want to be able to sit, by myself, in my room for _five_ minutes, without him crying for affection."

Burt pulled Kurt closer to him, holding the back of his son's head against his shoulder. "How long have you felt like this? Is this just because of today, or has this been going on a while?"

Kurt shook his head. "I don't really know. I first _noticed_ it today, but…it's like the more I think about it, the more I realize I've been sort of feeling it for a while, but I wouldn't _let_ myself feel it, and now everything's bubbling over and…resent. That's the word. I don't _hate_ Alex. I _resent_ him." The word was cathartic to Kurt, allowing him to organize his thoughts and feelings better. He pulled away from his father. "Ever since Alex was born, it feels like I'm not living anymore. And if I _am,_ I'm living _through_ him. All my connections to my friends and my family, they all seem to revolve around Alex. And then when I'm not resenting him, I'm constantly worrying about him. Am I doing everything right? Every time he so much as whimpers, I feel like I'm abusing him someway and it just eats me up, even though I know – I _know_ – I'm doing things right and I think…I think I'm just tired, you know? Alex is up a lot throughout the night, and then this crap with his dad being nocturnal completely throws me for a loop and sets my whole internal schedule off. I think I'm just tired, and it's making me cranky and irritable, and everything that I could normally slough off is sticking with me and making me even _more_ irritated and I'm just…" Kurt waved his hand vaguely in front of himself, trying to indicate his current state of mind.

Burt shook his head and pulled Kurt close again. "No, I don't think 'tired' is the problem. I think tired is just a symptom. I think you have depression…that postpartum depression."

"But I was fine after Alex was born. In fact, most of this, I think, is the past few weeks." Kurt shook his head. "Ever since the damn auditions for _West Side Story_. At first it was so much fun, but after a while…the hassle of having to deal with shuffling Alex with the rehearsals, everyone constantly asking about _him_, never how _I_ was doing…after a while, it felt more like I was trying to escape from Alex."

"I don't think it matters that these feelings are new. I think you can get postpartum depression anytime after the baby is born. Look, I know you're probably going to be resistant to the idea, but I think seeing a therapist might help a little. Hell, it could be something as simple as you needing vitamins or doing meditation. Then again, it might not be that simple. Point is, I don't think it's healthy for you to try and go through this on your own."

Kurt was quiet. He wanted to object to the idea of seeing a shrink, but logically he knew it was necessary.

Kurt nodded to his father.

xoxoxo

When Finn got home, the whole family sat down to talk about the feelings Kurt was having. They all seemed in agreement that a therapist was the best option for Kurt.

Carol had put Alex to sleep for the night, but Kurt felt compelled to look in on him. He waited until everyone else was asleep; he didn't want to talk to anyone. Carol had mentioned during the family meeting that some people with postpartum depression think about hurting themselves or the baby. Kurt assured her that the thought had never crossed his mind; the thought of Alex being hurt in any way _revolted_ him. He still didn't want people questioning why he was in Alex's nursery so late at night, though.

Alex was flat on his stomach in the crib, his little legs pointed in every direct – just like when he was a newborn. The blanket had shifted over him so that it covered his eyes. Kurt pulled the blanket down slightly before tucking it under his sides. He ran the backside of his fingers over Alex's fur, watching the little pup shift under his touch. "I still love you, you know. You're my world. I'm just…there's something wrong with me right now. I'll never stop loving you Alex."


	17. Brokeback Mountain

**Guest: Sorry I keep forgetting to answer your question. Here's the answer: I have no friggin' clue. This is already longer than I intended it to be and I highly doubt it's halfway finished.**

**xoxoxo**

"I've never had depression before. I'm not liking it."

David smiled wryly as he pulled into the parking lot at the furniture store. "I don't think you're _supposed_ to like depression. How're things going with the therapist?"

Kurt shrugged, unlocking the side door. "I've only seen her twice. She's nice enough, but she's not offering any quick fixes. She won't even give me Xanax or whatever: not until we've met a few more times." Kurt walked around the backside of David's pickup truck, meeting him behind it as they headed towards to the store. "Have you ever…you know, had depression?" By now, all of Kurt's friends knew about his postpartum depression. Kurt had personally told a few of them (Tina, Mercedes, David), Finn had let it slip to a few more (Rachel, Quinn, Puck), the rest had found out seemingly by osmosis. It was impossible to keep secrets in glee club.

David snorted. "I'm a fat, balding, closeted homosexual with next to no friends who watched his mother get horrifically butchered when he was ten…nah, I've never had depression."

Kurt placed his hand on David's shoulder and rubbed circles with his thumb. "You aren't fat. Just because you don't have abs doesn't mean you're fat. You have a football body. You're a football _player_. You aren't going to have a swimmer or jogger's body when that's not who you are. Look at me; I have a dancer's body. No matter what I do, chances are, I'm never going to be ripped." David smiled a weak smile, but didn't say anything. "And having met your father, I think it's safe to say balding will never be an issue with you. When it comes to _friends_…well, it seems you're usually trying to impress the wrong people. You shun the people who make excellent, loyal friends – Finn, Puck, Sam, Mike, Artie – and instead try and make friends with guys I'm pretty sure would bully their own mothers. As for being a closeted homosexual, everything takes time. It's something hard that everyone needs to cope with in their own way."

"How did you deal with it? Coming out, I mean?"

They were in the store now, looking in the storage section. Kurt was looking at a system of coated-wire grids that interlocked to create storage cubes. "You've known me for quite a while, a couple of years, in fact. I don't think anyone was really shocked when I came out. Even my dad was kinda like 'well, _duh_.' Mercedes was the only one who seemed to be surprised. Everyone had years to get used to the idea of me coming out. You? I think you're going to be the type that actually needs a coming out party."

"A coming out party?"

"It's a _huge_ thing for someone as closeted as you to come out. I think this is a good unit to clean up all of your sports equipment on the back porch, what do you think?" Kurt had been in dire need of retail therapy. It had been ages since he had done any serious shopping. David had volunteered to play the part of victim in Kurt's shopping addiction.

David wasn't in denial about the fact that he and his father were complete slobs. They hadn't done any updates to their living arrangements since they had moved to the border of the Redzone and their current furniture and living setup no longer really suited their needs. He was even still sleeping in the same twin bed that he had slept in when he was old enough to move out of his crib; the only real change was the lack of dinosaur sheets. "You know, you're not making me feel any more confident about 'coming out'. I don't _want_ it to be a big deal. I just want it to happen without anyone saying shit. I don't need congratulations and empowerment any more than I want insults and putdowns. I don't want it to be any more of a big deal than…than my _hair_ color. It's just part of who I am." David walked a loop around the storage unit, shaking it to check for sturdiness and pulling down on the cubes to check for strength. "It's actually pretty nice. I can even store my hockey sticks and golf clubs by sticking them through the spaces in the grids."

"That's a very mature observation, David. Being gay _isn't_ any different than being brunette. All right, so we think this'll help get the porch straightened out?" David nodded as he scooped up on of the small boxes the storage unit somehow broke down into and placed it into the shopping cart. "It's pretty cheap, too." David shrugged. Money wasn't an issue for him, but Kurt didn't know that. "All right…tackling your metaphorical closet – or even your meta_physical_ closet – will take a lot more time than we have today, so let's work on your physical closet. Shoes first; shoes usually create the most clutter in a closet. A shoe rack'll take care of that."

"Just 'cause I'm gay doesn't mean I collect shoes. I have two, three pairs total, maybe."

"You may not collect shoes, but I promise you, you have more than three pairs." Kurt held up his hand in front of his face as they walked to the closet department. "You have the shoes you're wearing right now. Any other pairs of sneakers?" David shook his head. Kurt held up his pinky. "You have at _least_ one pair of dress shoes, unless you rented them for prom?" David shook his head again, prompting Kurt to raise his ring finger to join his pinky. "Sandals?"

"One pair."

Kurt raised his middle finger to accompany the other two fingers. "You said you have gold clubs…any golf shoes?" David blushed while nodding awkwardly. Kurt raised another finger. "You have two different pairs of football shoes…don't think I haven't noticed. One pair's black and white, the other pair's red and white" Kurt raised his thumb and the pinky on his other hand. "Any work shoes? Like boots?"

"A pair of steel-toed boots and hiking boots."

Kurt's other ring fingers and middle finger went up, as well. "Snow boots? Rain boots?" David shook his head. "Anything I missed?"

David licked his lips, looking embarrassed. "A pair of Oxfords and a pair of loafers."

Kurt put both hands back down. "My oh my, two to three pairs turned into _ten_ awfully fast. And I must admit, I'm proud of you for knowing what Oxford shoes are."

David shrugged, looking away from Kurt to hide the bright blush spreading over his cheeks. "They're classy. I like 'em." David tagged along after Kurt like a loyal puppy, even as the self-fashioned interior decorator flitted from display to display. "Oh, and a pair of cowboy boots."

"No, you don't"

David was taken aback by that, "Yes, I do."

"No. You. Don't. Not after I get done with your closet, you don't." Kurt looked at several styles of shoe storage devices. He focused most of his attention on a floor unit with three levels.

"What's wrong with cowboy boots? A pair of plain, brown, leather cowboy boots, blue jeans, a rancher jacket or plaid shirt: I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I look pretty decent."

"Sure, you do, Ennis Del Mar."

David narrowed his eyes, "Who?"

"_Brokeback Mountain_: watch it. I give you permission to either love it or hate it, but as a gay man I order you to at least watch it." Kurt picked up the rack he had been admiring. "What do you think?" David looked it over. It was basically parallel rods of wrought iron held together by other parallel rods of wrought iron.

"Simple, sleek. I approve."

Kurt placed it into David's shopping cart along with the storage cubes. "So…after your mom died, did you ever go to therapy?"

"Nope. Dad tried to make me, but I'm not the talkie-type. My therapy is a Glock 27."

"Glock?" Kurt searched through his mind. He knew he'd heard that word before. "You shoot?" David nodded. "Depression and a handgun…that sounds like a winning combination."

David chuckled at that. "No, a winning combination would be depression, a handgun, and al-key-hall." When he saw Kurt's eyes go wide, obviously not picking up the joking nature of his comment, he continued on. "Seriously, though. I don't shoot when I'm upset. I do it when I'm _not_ upset and I find I _get_ upset less often as a result. You wanna come to the range with me sometime?"

"Lemme think about that…_no_."

David shrugged. "The offer stands. You ever change your mind, just ask. I think you'd enjoy getting your hands on a Smith and Wesson 617, though." David stood on the rung at the back of the shopping cart and rolled himself along. "Do you think having the therapist will help you?"

"I…don't know. I mean, I really _hope_ so; but, I just don't know. I love Alex, and it hurts me that I can't really _feel_ the love I know I have for him. Not like I did those first few weeks, anyway. It's kind of like those depression medication commercials with the sad little rock or circle-thing with the rainy cloud that just followed him around."

"For me, it's like there's a black hole inside me. When I get depressed, it just sucks everything out of me until I want to do nothing but sleep."

"It's like happiness is nothing but a dream. Something nice to think about, but never going to happen."

"Dementors. It's like you've got a dementor following you."

"_Exactly. _Any suggestions?"

David was quiet as he looked over various closet organizers; pant racks that hung from the back of the closet door, sticks with holes in them that hung in the closet and allowed you to hang your shirts at different heights so you could fit more in, tie and belt hangers, and other things he didn't know he apparently needed in his life. "Moderation. You've got to know when it's ok to just…break down. It _is_ ok to break down, you know; you just can't let the need to break down control you. At the same time, you need to know when you have to just power through it. And the crap about physical activity curing or treating depression is bullshit. I've always thought it was bullshit, but a study came out recently that confirmed it's bull. Everyone has their own coping mechanisms, and it's important that you find your own strategy. You're kind of touchy-feely, so I think just having a trained professional to talk to will help you a lot."

"That's what I'm hoping."

xoxoxo

"I think the hardest part was that it snuck up on me so slowly that by the time I realized I _was_ depressed it was almost too overwhelming to deal with." Burt Hummel had started the quest to get Kurt a shrink the Monday after Kurt's revelation. It had taken two weeks to find a therapist that would be a good fit for Kurt: i.e. someone who was experienced with postpartum depression cases and wouldn't be bothered by the fact that Kurt was a homosexual dating an unhuman. It had been more difficult than Burt expected. But Kurt had been seeing her for a little over a week, at twice a week, and it already seemed to be helping a little; talking helped Kurt organize his thoughts and feelings so he could analyze them and deal with them, better.

"That can often be the case with depression. The three typical experiences with depression I get are that it has become such a long-standing, pervasive aspect of the person's life that they can't even remember a time before the depression; it happens gradually, such as in your case, so that a person almost doesn't realize that they need help until the feelings become more than they can handle; _or_ something traumatic happens and sets off a sudden bought of depression."

"My friend David's got that last kind. He watched his mom get killed by a werewolf and it kind of sent him into a spiral." Kurt had expected the therapist to be like a court stenographer, frantically copying every sound, every expression, every mannerism Kurt made. She was very calm though, only occasionally looking down at her note pad to make a jot here and a notation there. "We've only been friends a few months now, but I've known him for years. I never really noticed him before last year, though. Never had a reason to notice him. The better I get to know him, the more tiny memories of him keep popping up. I suppose it's because I have a name and emotional connection to attach to the face now. Part of me remembers seeing him around school after his mom died. He was just a quiet, shy, chubby kid with a short temper…I think, what with Alex being a werewolf and everything, that things have been harder for him lately. But, at the same time, I think he's actually getting better about things. Being around Alex has mellowed him a lot…and I don't think he's as much a _species-ist_ as he was before."

"We talk a lot about David."

Kurt felt that there was a question buried in that observation somewhere, but wasn't entirely certain what the question was, so he responded with his first thought, "David's my friend. He was there when Alex was born…I told you about that, already. He and Alex are close; he's there for me at the drop of a hat; I'm his fabulous gay mentor; he was my bodyguard for a while last year. We have a history together." He hoped he said 'history' in such a way that Ms. Langlin wouldn't press for details: she didn't. "He's quickly becoming my best friend. To be fair, though, Mercedes and I haven't been as close since I transferred back to McKinley. She and I both grew a lot during that time."

"Do you ever think of David as more than a friend?"

Kurt bit the inside of his cheek. "I have enough stress in my life right now. I can't afford to ask questions like that."


	18. The Father Who Couldn't

"Apparently, it isn't that uncommon. Especially with younger parents, first time parents and single parents. I'm pretty much all of the above. It's getting better, though. My friends and family have really helped…_ease_ a bit of the stress. I'm hoping…well, what I'm saying is…I could really use _your_ help more with Alex. I _need_ you to take some responsibility with him." Kurt had been fidgeting with the hem of his nightshirt the entire time he explained to Wolf what had been going on with him since last they saw each other. He wasn't sure how Wolf would react. Any number of possibilities had entered into Kurt's mind from Wolf viewing him as a complete nutjob and unfit parent, and taking Alex away from him, never to be seen again, all the way to Wolf immediately turning back into a human, sweeping Kurt into his arms, and promising to take care of him and Alex for the rest of their lives. Of course, neither was very likely, but until he saw how Wolf reacted, he wouldn't know which was closer to the truth.

Wolf had listened intently, his ears pricked up and his head cocked to the side. Kurt had done his best to explain everything to the best of his ability, explaining all the symptoms he was feeling from both the depression and the Paxil his doctor had prescribed and elaborating when he felt necessary. Wolf wasn't a complete idiot, but past experiences had shown that he wasn't a genius either.

When he was finished, Wolf leaned forward and swiped his tongue gently across Kurt's neck and cheek. Kurt closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax. While his eyes were still closed, Kurt could feel Wolf place one arm behind his back and one arm behind his knees. In one smooth gesture, Wolf scooped Kurt up and placed him in the loveseat against the back wall of Alex's nursery. Kurt tried to sit up in the loveseat, but with a firm paw, Wolf nudged him back into a lying position. There was an afghan throw draped across the seat that Wolf tugged down and pulled over Kurt. Once again, Kurt tried to sit up, but Wolf, once again, halted his movements. Wolf licked across Kurt's forehead reassuringly and just stared at him until Kurt relaxed and started closing his eyes.

xoxoxo

A lot of what Kurt had said made sense to Wolf. Human's depression sometimes leaked through the barriers between their minds; Wolf understood how painful – yet strangely numbing – depression could be. He also appreciated the fact that he really _did_ need to take more responsibility with Alex. Kurt was the perfect mate, acting as both mother and father to their child. What was Wolf? Wolf was little more than a shadow in their baby's life.

Alex had been sitting rather impatiently in his crib, waiting for his two daddies to stop talking. He gnawed at the railings trying to get Wolf's attention. When Kurt's heartbeat had settled into a slow, steady, sleeping rhythm, Wolf plodded over to the crib. He stood up, towering over the sides of the crib and bent down to pick up Alex by the scruff. Alex fidgeted between his father's teeth for a moment before stilling: pulling his feet against his body and tucking up his tail between his legs the way instinct told him to. Wolf dropped down to all fours and headed out of the nursery and down the stairs, giving Kurt some time to rest while he spent time with his son. Wolf had gotten much better at manipulating the doorknob that led out to the back porch. His fur bristled when he stepped through into the night air; it was starting to get chillier out. He was very accustomed to the cold, but wasn't certain about Alex; he'd have to keep a close eye on his son to make sure he didn't get too chilly.

Wolf trotted towards the tree line with Alex, dropping him in the dewy grass right before they got to the tree. Wolf nudged Alex until Alex was in a seated position in the grass. Turning around, he headed off into the woods. Stopping short and looking over his shoulder, he could see Alex had scuttled after him. Wolf rolled his eyes and returned to his son. Placing his paw on Alex's back, he pushed down on him until Alex was in a lying position, just like he had with Kurt. Unlike Kurt, Alex flopped down onto his side, under the weight of his father's paw, flattening himself out on the ground dramatically. Wolf turned back around and returned to the woods, only to hear Alex stand, shake himself off, and scurry after him. Wolf was very tempted to growl; Alex was _not_ doing what he wanted him to do. He had to be patient with him; if Kurt could get Alex to do what he wanted, Wolf could too.

Picking Alex up by the scruff again, Wolf returned to the Hummel's backyard. He dropped Alex over the side of his pen, the small pup landing with a grunt. Wolf didn't care too much for the pen; it was a giant cage as far as he was concerned, but Alex probably saw it no different than his crib. Once Alex was safe enclosed by his pen, Wolf bounded off into the trees. If took him about five minutes to find what he was looking for, another ten to chase it down, and another five to set up "class" for his son.

Wolf had tracked and killed a raccoon and dragged its carcass in a series of loops and curved paths along the ground before hiding the remains under a pile of leaves, moss and dirt. It was to be his son's first lesson in tracking. Returning to the pen, he found Alex happily keeping himself busy eating grass. Wolf leaned over the side of the pen and snatched him up again. Carrying Alex into the trees, Wolf dropped him at the start of the trail he had created. Alex had never been into the woods before. He began sniffing at the rocks, the leaves and the trees. To Wolf, Alex seemed completely oblivious to the very obvious scent trail Wolf had created with the dead raccoon. Placing his paw on Alex's head, he pushed him down until his nose was a mere inch above the ground and then very deliberately sniffed at the ground himself. Alex followed his father's example, but did nothing more. Wolf nudged Alex along the trail a foot or so, before pushing his nose back down into the scent. When Alex still didn't get it, Wolf started, slowly, following the trail himself, his nose firmly against the ground as he tracked the trail he had made. After a few feet, Alex began mimicking his father and quickly caught on. After a few feet of following his father's example, Alex scurried ahead, showing off. A few times Alex wandered off the trail, following another interesting scent, but with Wolf's help, or even a few times on his own, Alex found the trail again. Wolf stopped miming the action of following the trail and watched his son proudly. If he could, he would smile.

"_WOLF!_" Wolf's back went rigid and he froze. This didn't sound good. "Dammit Wolf!" Slowly, Wolf turned around to see his angry mate stalking towards him. Kurt looked pissed.

Whole new levels of pissed.

Wolf had never heard the word "pissed" before, but something in his and Human's shared knowledge of language told him that that's what Kurt was. It was a type of angry completely unlike anything Wolf had ever seen before. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing? I wake up and Alex is _nowhere_ to be found. I can't find you; I can't find my son. I started _panicking._ Thankfully, I was calm enough to check out here before I woke everyone else in the house. Do you know what my father would do if I told him you had just _taken off_ with our son?" Kurt didn't give Wolf a chance to respond…as if there were anyway he _could_ respond. "I'll tell you what, we'd have a brand new werewolf-skin rug in our front foyer." Wolf flicked his head to the left, quickly checking on Alex to make sure his son was still on the trail. "You of all people have to understand how _dangerous_ the Redzone is. There are any number of Unhumans living out here…or _hunting_ out here. Not to mention other animals or just…Alex can get hurt on _anything_! He's a baby! He's delicate."

Alex was anything _but_ delicate. That little fur ball could revival a force of nature if he wanted to. Of course Wolf couldn't say that to Kurt and wasn't entirely sure he'd _want_ to. Something told him talking back, or any kind of talking at this point, would be hazardous to his health. For once, he was grateful he couldn't talk. He had to admit though, his mate was kind of attractive when he was like this. He was like a feisty mama bear or something. "When I said I wanted you to _take_ more responsibility with Alex, I assumed you would realize that meant to _be_ more responsible with him." Alex had doubled back around so he was behind Kurt now, still focused on the trail. He wasn't too far from the raccoons hiding place now. Between Kurt's flushed face and angry excitement and Alex's successes at following a scent trail, Wolf was starting to get excited. He wanted to celebrate with his son and then "celebrate" with his mate.

Alex had found the pile of leaves.

Wolf was starting to get antsy. These last few moments before Alex found his goal seemed to take forever. Kurt was still yelling at him though, so he distracted himself by looking back at his mate, "…really tired. I just wish you could be there for us more often. I _get_ that there's _something_ keeping you from staying in the mornings, but I'm at my wits ends, Wolf. You need to figure _something_ out." He could hear Alex snuffling around in the leaves, digging through the pile somewhere behind Kurt. "Please, just _try_ to work with me here. The countdown's begun, Wolf. I'm not gonna wait around forever for you to figure things out." He could hear Alex trotting back towards them; Wolf could vaguely see something in his son's mouth. Had he bit off a piece of the raccoon? Wolf's tail swished happily back and forth. Kurt turned to look where Wolf was and spotted his son. "Ugh, and I _don't_ want him eating things like this. They're _dirty_." Kurt bent down and pulled a medium sized pinecone out of Alex's mouth. Wolf's elation deflated. "Don't you know these things are covered in _bugs_?"

xoxoxo

Kurt's anger didn't seem like it would abate any time soon. Wolf thought it was best for them all if he left early for the night; he would come back tomorrow and hopefully Kurt's anger would have ebbed a bit by then.

Wolf was angry, as well. Not with Kurt though. Or even himself. He was angry with Human for being so inflexible: so full of hate and anger towards unhumans. He felt the need to work out some of his anger. He picked an appropriate scent trail and followed it for an hour or so. It led to a small, tight copse. Wolf waited on the outskirts of the collection of small trees and bushes for a few minutes, hoping his pray would run off in fear; it seemed intent on waiting him out though, hoping Wolf hadn't spotted it. Down on all fours, Wolf built up a large howl that seemed to start in his lower back, traveled up through his shoulders and finally through his head until he threw his head back and let it out. A deer erupted from the trees and fled, crashing against the trunk of a large oak in its haste to escape from Wolf.

Wolf gave it a few minutes head start before taking off after it. He intentionally held back, letting the deer keep a good lead on him instead of bursting forward to take it out in one swift move. He continued to chase it throughout the early hours of the morning. When he finally got bored, Wolf caught up with the deer and pounced on it, tackling it to its side. The deer froze and watched him, trying not to struggle and prolong the inevitable.

Wolf wasn't hungry though. Once the deer was in total submission and had stopped so much as flinching, Wolf stood up and wandered away. The deer waited a second before struggling to its feet and running off.

Down on all fours, Wolf walked slowly down the stairs leading into the basement. Human's father was asleep in the recliner. Wolf approached him cautiously, watching his chest steadily rise and fall. Wolf missed the days when he was _his_ father, as well: back when they could talk, and play together, and he could comfort him and tell him how to fix all of his problems. Wolf turned around and crawled into his cage, curling up in a circle before awaiting the change.


	19. The Father Who Wasn't

**Guest: Wolf's knowledge of Human/David basically extends to knowing that they are the same person and that David hates unhumans and enjoys the thought of hurting them. He won't "out himself" because he's afraid David would hurt Alex, rather than allow an unhuman to live. He doesn't understand the transformation David has gone through and is unaware of the friendship that has built up between Kurt, Alex and David. **

**As for Paul, Wolf and he have what could best be described as a "courteous" relationship with one another. They acknowledge each other and Paul allows Wolf his freedom, but they don't see each other aside from perhaps 5-10 minutes three times a month. Wolf has no idea how Paul would react to Alex. **

**Wolf may be an unhuman, but he's still very much an animal; he'll protect his son and mate, even from "himself", at any cost. Yes, Wolf wants to help Kurt, but protecting his son is more important.**

**xoxoxo**

Tina, Mercedes and Rachel sat down at the lunch table across from David without a "hello" or "how-do-ya-do?" They almost looked like they belonged there. Almost. "So, you up for babysitting Wolfy Junior while we kidnap Kurt for mall crawling?"

David's eyes flicked nervously between the three girls as they stared intently and eagerly at him. Like predators. "Uhhh…"

xoxoxo

David sat on the kitchen counter, his cell phone pinned against his ear by his shoulder. "No, Dad….yes, it's house trained….It belongs to that kid I'm tutoring, I've told you about that…I know you love dogs, but he's picking it up around seven, I think; you won't be home, yet…Nine, right?...I can get Dominos if you want...Yeah, I can drive out for KFC, instead. Extra mashed potatoes?…Original or crispy?...No, that's Popeyes, not KFC…No, I _hate _Popeyes…Ok, that's fine…I'll pick it up at nine so we should get here around the same time…nope, that's great…See you." As Paul hung up on the other end of the line, David's phone automatically hung up his end with a _**boop boop boop**_. Placing it aside, David started digging through the fridge for something to give Alex to snack on.

"You want some ice cream?" Alex came scampering across the floor, slipping on the cracked linoleum, his ears sticking straight up from the top of his head. "Well, well, well…you _do_ understand some of what we say." Alex let out a rapid-fire barkbarkbarkbark; he sounded like a semiautomatic rifle. It was the same kind of happy yipping David heard when he rang the doorbell at the Hummel house. "Ok, but I'm only giving you vanilla. I don't know what werewolf puppies can have. I know most animals can't have chocolate, but can werewolves?" David emptied two cups of French vanilla ice cream into a bowl for Alex. He scooped out a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough for himself. Balancing the two bowls of ice cream in one arm and his best little buddy in the other, he nudged open the basement door with the toe of his sneaker. Kurt was letting David babysit at his own house this time, once he'd seen how clean David could make it.

When they got to the basement, David placed Alex on the floor and watched, amused, as Alex immediately began sniffing curiously at all the different "toys" David had collected over the years. Alex would have to go out of his way to actually hurt himself on any of them; the dangerous ones were either well above Alex's eye level or locked up. Once he placed down Alex's bowl of ice cream, Alex immediately lost interest in the canopic jar he had been sniffing at and lunged at his ice cream, running over David's hand in the process. "Holy…chill _out_ little dude." Alex's muzzle was already covered in the slimy, wet ice cream. His frantic panting and licking was thawing it far faster than David's own ice cream, quickly turning it into a melty puddle. David sat back in his father's recliner and relaxed as he started indulging in his own ice cream. David took his time eating, scooping around the chunks of cookie dough. He liked to save them for last and then eat them all at once. He did that with most of his foods: start off with the worst part and then work his way up so that the food would get progressively better and he would finish off with a great taste in his mouth.

Alex was quiet as he focused on attacking his bowl of ice cream, giving David some down time. He'd been watching Alex for an hour already and that time had consisted of nothing more than playing fetch and tug-o-war. Alex had more energy in his tiny body than the entire football team combined. It was a shame his registration as an unhuman would preclude him from any organized sports once he got older.

As David scooped up the last bit of cookie dough from his bowl, he looked down to see Alex flopped on his side on the floor. He looked like he'd eaten too much, too fast. David placed his bowl aside and leaned over to pick up Alex. Alex was like a limp weight in his hands and stretched himself out on his back once he was in David's lap. His tiny belly was extended. David rubbed little circles on Alex's tummy, prompting a happy purr-like growl to bubble up in Alex's throat. "Serves you right for eating like a pig."

David pushed back on the arms of the chair, causing the footrest to pop up. He lay back and cuddled with Alex while Alex's stomach got back under control. After a half hour or so, when Alex started acting normal again, David put the chair back in its normal position. He left Alex in the chair while he got up and collected a few things from around the room.

Making certain Alex was still seated, David pried open the mouth of one of the bear traps. He had gone around to collect the traps after the full moon had ended a month or so ago, but was surprised to see that each had been set off but had nothing in its jaws. David blamed his father; he probably tracked down each one and dismantled it so David wouldn't get in trouble. Once the metal maw was securely open, David picked up Alex to make sure he couldn't touch it. "Pay attention, Alex. This could save your life." David kneeled down a safe distance away from the bear trap, a rope in hand. "This is a bear trap. People use them to hunt werewolves. You gotta make sure you never touch one. Never. Touch. One." He jostled Alex a little bit to make sure he was paying attention. Once he was certain Alex was focused on the bear trap, he pulled the rope, prompting the trap to snap shut. Alex jumped in David's arms, whimpering from the loud, startling noise. David dropped the rope and cuddled Alex close, "Shhh…yeah, I know. It's scary. That's why you gotta stay away from it."

David placed Alex back on the recliner, but Alex kept his eyes firmly fixated on the bear trap. "Oh, great. I've traumatized you." David thought about that for a minute, "Well…I suppose that's a good thing. The only time you'll ever really _see_ bear traps is when they're a threat to you. Or watching _Saw_, in which case you're meant to be afraid, anyway."

David picked up a handgun off the floor beside the armchair. "This is a gun. Guns are _bad_. If you see someone come at you with a gun, you need to be _afraid_. If they're police, the guns will probably be loaded with silver bullets which _will_ kill you." David debated shooting a blank off into the air, but didn't want to scare Alex any worse, so he just placed it aside. He could always show Alex how guns worked later.

David picked up his father's shotgun from beside the recliner. "This is a shotgun. Shotguns aren't too bad. It's either going to have regular shot in it, which your body will just take care of, or tranquilizer shot. Tranquilizer shot is regular shot that has somehow been filled with powerful tranquilizers. Your body will break down the shot, releasing the tranquilizer directly into your bloodstream. It'll only keep you down for an hour or so, but that could be more than enough." He knew Alex didn't really understand, but the younger he started explaining it to Alex and the more often he did, the better Alex would remember when it mattered in life. Not only that, but at least his young mind would associate fear with the weapons he was showing Alex. "There are also sniper rifles that shoot silver bullets…but you probably won't ever see one of those. Not until it's too late, anyway."

Alex sniffed at the shotgun before he tried chewing on the muzzle. His hackles rose up and he growled as he held the metal in his mouth. When he took his mouth off the muzzle he scrunched up his nose and scraped his tongue across his teeth. There was a small streak of gun grease on his tongue. "Yeah, my dad isn't too great about cleaning his stuff." David pulled up the hem of his shirt and stuck it into Alex's mouth, wiping the grease out.

The final weapon David needed to show Alex was his archery set. Putting back the other weapons, David picked Alex back up and took him upstairs. The hall leading to the porch contained only the equipment cubes Kurt had picked out with David and the equipment stored in them. His bow hung on a hook he had affixed to the side; the quiver sat on top. David grabbed both with his free hand. The porch itself was nothing more than a raised cement slab in the ground built by the previous tenants to level out the backyard for grilling. David put Alex down, trusting him to stay close by. Alex scuttled forward a few steps, but overall seemed too nervous to get any farther away from David. David opened up a zip pocket on the side of his quiver and got out his finger tab and arm guard. It took him only a second to slide them on, adjust them, and use his foot to scotch Alex back where he wanted him.

David held out an arrow for Alex to sniff; of course, Alex took that as invitation to chew on the shaft and feathers. "Hey, that's ok, the fletching is only three bucks an arrow." It was said sarcastically, but if Alex could barely understand English, it was doubtful he could understand sarcasm, yet. "This is a bow and arrow." He didn't hold the bow out for Alex. He wasn't sure how strong Alex's teeth were, but he didn't want to risk him biting though the sting or cables; he couldn't begin to imagine what kind of injury that would cause to Alex. "Unless the arrow is silver, it isn't going to do much of any damage to you. But you're more likely to encounter someone hunting you with a bow and arrow than any other kind of weapon. These are usually just assholes who like to torture werewolves." David left out the part about how, if there were any kind of werewolf population in the area, _he_ would be one of those 'assholes'. "They'll shoot you, cause you a shitload of pain, and then you'll heal up, eliminating any evidence. It's like wedgies; you only get in trouble if you get caught _in the act_."

David stood back up and straightened out. He took the arrow he was holding and nocked it. Drawing back on the string, he aimed at a tree at the edge of the property (the Redzone edge so that in the unlikely event he missed his target, the worst it would hit would be an unhuman). Releasing the string, the arrow sailed through the air, silent until it hit the tree with a quiet 'thwunck.' While the other weapons had rightfully frightened Alex (he hadn't stopped quivering until David had picked him up and brought him outside), the arrow fascinated him and he chased after it. David hadn't expected that reaction; he had expected Alex to stay fearfully by his side while he practiced. Apparently not. David jog-walked after Alex. Alex jumped up the bottom of the tree, trying to "fetch" the stick David had "thrown" for him.

David watched Alex for a minute and contemplated intentionally shooting the ground with arrows so Alex could chase after them, but quickly dismissed the idea as being too stupid to even comprehend. There were far too many ways that could go wrong. "All right, let's go give you a bath. Your daddy will _not_ be happy if he comes to get you and you're covered in ice cream, dust from the basement and dirt." Leaving the arrow in the tree, David picked Alex back up and took him inside.

xoxoxo

"I'm sure your dad would bitch me out for using dish soap instead of high-end, designer, 80-dollars-a-bottle baby shampoo specially crafted for werewolf pups with dry scalp, but if Dawn's good enough for oil-slicked penguins, it's good enough for me." Alex responded by trying to bite the stream of warm water as it flowed from the sink faucet, his teeth clicking together when they met halfway through the cascade. "I'm sorry if I scared you earlier, but I'd rather you be scared – terrified even – if it meant the difference between…" David sighed. "I like you Alex. I like you and your dad a lot. If anything ever happened to either of you…how sad is that? I sound like some kind of creeper, probably. Not that you care; you don't understand a damn thing I'm saying, do you?" Alex splashed in the water, frothing the soap and creating piles of bubbles to his endless amusement. "Not a _damn_ thing."


	20. Snow 1 Toasty warm

**Octopus asked a really good question:**

**Will Alex age normally? (I condensed the question)**

**Here was the response I gave to them:**

**In the grand scheme of things, he'll age the same as a human, but different milestones will be hit at different times.**

**Some things will come sooner (crawling [walking on all fours], eating solid foods, anything pertaining to balance and coordination), some things will come slower (talking, walking [on two legs], almost anything relating to dexterity).**

**The younger he is, the greater the disparities will be, but things will start to even out as he ages.**

**xoxoxo**

His eyes steadily opened and adjusted to the light filtering through the blankets. Something had woken him up. It wasn't a movement, or a noise, or even some new, interesting smell. He had the feeling that he had been very warm, hot almost, and now he wasn't as warm. He was still tucked up underneath the nice thick comforter: only his tail and nose were sticking out, just as he liked it. Daddy would try and tuck the blankets all around him, leaving his head exposed, but Alex would always wiggle free so he could get his head under the blankets and his tail out of them.

He stood up on shaky, still-sleeping legs and bucked the blankets off of his head. Daddy was in front of the closet, busy pulling on a new shirt. Once he'd gotten his head through the hole and fastened up a few buttons on it, he straightened the hem and walked over to the window. He pulled the shades open, flooding the room with blinding, early morning light; the bedroom was eastward facing, so the sun shone unfiltered, in a direct path, into the bedroom. Daddy squinted in the light, raising a hand to shield his eyes as they adjusted to the piercing rays. "Ugh, I hate snow."

Alex didn't understand what that meant. Most of what Alex heard made no sense to him. There were a few words that he was starting to understand, but they were mostly words that were important to him; foods (bottle, eggs, hot dog), events (bath, bed, movie) or people. "Daddy" of course was his favorite word. "Daddy" filled him with warm, fluffy feelings. Daddy meant two different people: the daddy that was currently stroking his head and ears as he put the bed back together around Alex, and the Other Daddy that was sometimes very big and very furry, and sometimes not so big and not so furry. Other Daddy was also called "David" sometimes, but Alex had not figured out the pattern behind the two different names. He was still very dependent on his sense of smell as his main indicator of the world around him and so hadn't realized that when Daddy was big and furry he was "Daddy;" when he was not so big and not so furry he was "David."

"Grandpa" meant the big - but not as big as Other Daddy - man that fed him grown-up foods like bacon and sausage, and smelled like the big shiny things that growled whenever they were awake. "Grandma" was the calm, quite woman that liked to just sit and hold him, or cradle him in her arms while she moved around the house. "Finn" was the almost-as-big-as-Other-Daddy guy that fed him lots of special treats whenever Daddy wasn't around: crunchy orange triangles, crunchy orange sticks, crunchy brown sticks, crunchy orange balls, crunchy yellow circles. Finn liked crunchy things and liked to share them with Alex; that made Finn wonderful in Alex's mind. All the other people he knew weren't around often enough for Alex to really care too much about; he just made sure to remember whether they were fun, scary, gentle or strange.

Daddy picked Alex up and held him over his shoulder. Alex wiggled as best as he could; he didn't _want_ to be held! He wanted to run around and play. Daddy just held him more firmly. "Stop it, Alex, I don't want to drop you." Alex didn't know what his daddy was saying. Alex's head bounced up and down softly as Daddy walked down the stairs. Alex hadn't figured out how to go down the stairs on his own yet, but going up them was fine. And it was kind of fun to sit at the top of the stairs while everyone else was downstairs; he could see the tops of everyone's heads and pretend he was big like Other Daddy. When they got into the kitchen, Daddy put him on the cool, slippery floor. Grandma was already in the kitchen, a mug in her hand. She looked at Daddy and immediately started talking in those funny words that meant nothing to Alex. "Oh, Kurt, honey, you look like a zombie. Did you not sleep at all last night?"

Daddy poured himself his own mug of hot, black, yucky drink. Alex had stuck his nose in a cup of it once and burned his nose. Once the burning subsided he had licked the wetness off his face; it tasted _horrible_. "Alex hasn't been sleeping the past few nights. Last night, and the night before, I woke up to hear him barking on the baby monitor. This morning I woke up and heard him whimpering, so I went down to his room and he was quivering in his crib. He had an accident, but I think he had a nightmare first. He looked so pitiful: so tiny and wide-eyed. I washed him up a little before putting him in my own bed, but by the time I got him settled and asleep, cleaned up the mess in his crib, and then got back to bed, I couldn't sleep. I stared at my clock until about four."

Grandma put a hand on Daddy's shoulder. "Why don't you go back to bed, sweety? I can make Alex breakfast and take care of him. I don't have work until two."

Daddy looked at Alex, sitting on the floor, staring back up at him. "Thank you so much, Carol. The baby book says that protein and calcium are the most important things for him right now, so I usually make him an omelet of some kind and fix him a bottle." Alex's ears pricked up at the word 'bottle.' "He won't finish eating the omelet in one sitting, but if you leave it somewhere he can get it, it'll all be gone within an hour or two."

"Finn was the _same_ way. He'd wail for food, eat a little of it, refuse anymore and then half an hour later he'd be wailing away again."

"Now he eats anything that isn't too fast to catch." They laughed in the same rhythmic, pulsing way the ceiling fan in Alex's nursery sounded, then Daddy left the kitchen.

Alex didn't know a whole lot of words, but he knew the word 'eat' and he had heard it several times. Food came from the kitchen, where they were right now, so he stayed with grandma, watching her expectantly, while Daddy went to the living room.

Grandma made breakfast _wrong_. Daddy usually gave him a bottle while the frying pan heated up, but Grandma was making the _eggs,_ first. Alex whimpered at her. "It's ok, Lex, breakfast will be ready soon." Alex lowered his nose to the floor and started looking for his own breakfast. Sometimes he would be lucky; Grandpa and Finn were messy and dropped a lot of food. Sometimes, Alex could get to it before Grandma or Daddy noticed. He checked around the center island: nothing. He headed out to the dining room and checked under the table, around each chair, and even under the big plant: nothing. He had tried eating the plant before, but it had made him throw up, so Grandpa put it on a small, round table out of his reach. He decided to head back to the kitchen; maybe if he stared at the refrigerator long enough, Grandma would figure it out.

He was headed to the fridge (and towards Grandma; she was taking things out of the fridge) when he stopped suddenly next to the stove. Something was there. He looked between the counter and the stove. There was no space between the two for the most part, but down near the bottom it was like someone had cut out long rectangular sections from the base of the stove, allowing two or three inches between the stove and counter: just enough room for Alex to shove his snout. His night vision was pretty good and he could see a lot of things hidden in that little inaccessible crevice. There were dust bunnies, of course, but dust bunnies were not yummy and they made him sneeze when they stuck to his nose. There was also a grease slick going up the stove-side of the crevice and staining the floor. Grease was only yummy for a day or two. But there, just in front of the dust bunnies and sitting atop the grease stain on the faux-marble linoleum, sat a corner of toast. It was blackened and, quite likely, almost as old as Alex.

But it looked _delicious_.

Alex stuck his nose into the crevice; it smelled as good as it looked, if not better. He dug his claws into the floor, trying to push himself forward. His head was firmly wedged between the counter and the stove; it couldn't go in any further, but he wasn't worried about being able to wriggle free. Sticking his tongue out, he found he could just manage to poke the toast. When his tongue got tired, he retracted it, drooling at the thought of the toast just out of his reach. He poked his tongue back out, touching the nearest edge of the toast again. The viscosity of the drool on his tongue was just enough to cause the toast to move closer when he retracted his tongue again (of course, Alex knew nothing of viscosity, or science…except maybe a little cause and effect). Poking his tongue out one final time, he was able to tag the topside of the toast and drag it all the way back into his mouth. It was stale and hard – difficult to chew – but oh, so yummy. At some early point in its life, someone had buttered it and sprinkled it with garlic salt. Alex was still divided on his feelings about garlic, but salt was _amazing_. There was a little glass jar of it on the kitchen table he'd been able to get at once and he'd licked it for a good half hour before Finn has spotted him and had taken it away.

Just as he was swallowing the last crunchy bit of it, Grandma scooped him up around his midsection and pulled him away from the stove. "There's nothing back there for little wolf puppies. Come on, let's have some breakfast." He wasn't sure if he'd been 'caught' or not. Usually when he found food that wasn't handed to him, someone would try to take it away from him, sticking their fingers in his mouth while saying 'drop it'. That was his signal to swallow, before his precious treasure could be taken away. Grandma didn't seem to notice that he had found floor-food; either that, or she didn't care. Either was fine with Alex.

xoxoxo

Breakfast with grandma was good. She cooked the eggs longer than Daddy, making them firmer and less runny, but instead of those funny little red, green, and yellow cubes that Daddy put in the eggs, Alex was delighted to find gooey, dripping cheese.

After he and Grandma had eaten and she'd given him a bottle, she put the remainder of his plate on the floor for him, just like Daddy did, and then left him while she cleaned. After a while, Alex got bored watching her clean (the only 'fun' cleaning was sweeping; he liked chasing the broom and the bristles felt funny), so he finished his breakfast and decided to go look for Daddy. Daddy was in the living room, lying on the couch. Alex watched him from the floor and realized he was asleep. He climbed up and sat next to his daddy, just listening to his daddy breath.

Grandma stuck her head in the living room, "Oh, there you are. Stay. _Staaayyyy_." He didn't know what she was saying, but she was looking at him and talking to him so she obviously wanted his attention. When she turned around to go back into the kitchen, Alex jumped down off the couch and followed behind her. She pulled a large white bag out of garbage can (oh, how Alex wished he could somehow get inside with all the amazing smells) and opened up the back doors: first the heavy inside one that Alex couldn't see through, then the smooth, outside door that was clear. She left the inside door open, but the outside one closed on its own.

But, _slowly_.

Usually, when people brought Alex outside, they carried him in their arms and didn't put him down until he was in one of the big growly things or in his pen. But Other Daddy had allowed him to run around outside without his pen twice now, so maybe he was allowed to be outside without being held now? Every now and then what he was allowed to do and what he wasn't allowed to do changed. Maybe this was one of those changes?

Alex chased after Grandma and got through the second door just in time for it to miss catching his tail. Alex couldn't stand his tail; it got caught in a lot of things, wiggled when he didn't want it to and followed him _everywhere_. He wouldn't have minded too much if the door had taken it off. He watched Grandma as she walked across the covered porch, down the two steps and into the backyard, turning left to the side of the house where Alex could smell more garbage cans. Despite the nice smells coming from there, it was the _rest_ of the backyard that he found fascinating.

Where once everything had been soft greens and browns, now everything was a harsh, bright white: smooth and flat. _It looks like the bathroom_, Alex thought. He followed after his Grandmother as far as the porch went, but once he got to the steps, he stepped off the right side of the steps, instead of the left. He dropped farther than he had expected, by an inch or so. If he were older, he'd equate the sensation with going up a flight of stairs, placing your foot down expecting another step, only to find you had already reached the landing; it was disorientating. The white ground was incredibly soft and cold and…wet? Alex looked around, his eyes going wide. The entire backyard was covered in _ice cream_! He remembered ice cream. Other Daddy had given him ice cream and that was one word he would never forget, like 'bacon,' or 'Daddy,' or 'Sheldonthesheep.'

He buried his nose in the cold wetness, getting water up his nostrils. Something was wrong. It wasn't sweet: just cold and wet. He let out a low, throaty rumble. It wasn't ice cream, just funny colored, soft ice cubes. Daddy would put ice cubes on the ground every now and then for him to play with; ice cubes were fun, but not yummy. _This_ strange ice cube-like stuff covering the backyard could not be batted around and chased. How disappointing.

There was noise behind Alex. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see his Grandma walking up the steps, across the porch, and through the two doors. Alex chased after her, tripping up the steps, but by the time he got to the house, the inside door had shut in his face.


	21. Snow 2 Cold

Alex was not unused to closed doors. People closed the bathroom door every time they walked through it. The doors that led outside were almost always closed. Daddy shut his nursery door every night. The door to the room where they kept the large, shiny, growly things was always shut. A shut door was by no means a new concept to Alex. This time though, he had the pervasive feeling that he was on the _wrong_ side of a shut door. That had never happened before. He wasn't really sure how he felt about that.

No one was around. The only time Alex was ever really _alone_ was when he was supposed to be sleeping, and even then Daddy was usually with him until he fell asleep and was there to wake him up in the morning. 'Alone' was a strange feeling, but he didn't understand the world enough to be _afraid_ of 'alone.' He got upset when he couldn't find the person he wanted to be with, but there was almost always another person there to comfort and entertain him. If he woke up alone, he could whimper and whine and someone would show up to cuddle him.

Did Grandma _know_ he was alone? Had she left him outside on purpose? Sometimes Daddy would put him in his crib when he was chewing the wrong things (usually people) and being "bad." Had he been bad so Grandma put him out here? Alex's ears sagged and he whimpered. He didn't want to be bad. He put his paws up on the back door: the cool glass actually warmer than his snowy, wet paws. He barked once at the door, then twice, but no one came.

Alex turned around and headed towards the end of the porch. He stopped at the top step and looked back at the house over his shoulder. Maybe she was upset about the toast. Maybe that had been _her_ toast and she'd wanted to eat it. Alex slunk down off the stairs and walked around the backyard.

Now that he had freedom, he wasn't sure what to do with it. He'd never had the freedom to go wherever he pleased. Doors were very often shut in front of him, keeping him where he was supposed to be and out of where he wasn't supposed to be. His first instinct was to go to his big pen in the backyard, but even the door on that – the gate – was shut to him.

There were two parallel fences that ran along the side of the yard; they were wooden, slatted, privacy fences that he didn't know had been installed not long before his birth to allow his Other Daddy to come and go without being spotted. To the left of the house, Alex knew there was something, like him, that barked. But he couldn't understand its barking; it was as much gibberish as most of what the grown-ups said. He wasn't sure what was behind the other fence. He couldn't get passed either fence, anyway, so it didn't matter. He had two options: he could go to the woods, which were always dark and had lots of things he could smell but couldn't always see or he could go to the front of the house. He knew more about the front of the house; Daddy had taken him to the front of the house and placed him inside one of the big, shiny growling creatures and taken him to lots of faraway places. He thought maybe if he went that way he'd see something familiar. Maybe he could even find his way to Other Daddy's house.

_Other Daddy_. Other Daddy could _never_ be mad at him.

It was settled. Alex rounded the right side of the house and headed to the front yard. It looked like the entire _world_ had been covered in the not-quite-ice-cube stuff. There was, however, a long strip of black, with almost no white stuff on it, in front of the house, leading to the left and to the right, as far as the eye could see. His paws were getting colder and wetter, so he headed for the strip of black. Once he was in the middle, he looked left and right, trying to remember which way the metal creature had taken them to get to Other Daddy's house. He was pretty sure it was the right; things looked more familiar in that direction. He headed in that direction, his paws slipping on little patches of smooth coldness that he couldn't see, but could feel. Sniffing at the air did nothing to help him; for some reason the smells all around him seemed muted and dull. He didn't understand that the cold air made it harder for smell.

He wasn't sure how long he'd walked when he heard a loud noise behind him; it was like a cross between a howl, a bark and a growl. He looked behind himself to see one of the shiny metal things moving towards him. It had two eyes that reflected light, like the bird that sometimes sat outside his nursery window at night. The lights kept blinking off and on at him as the loud noise continued. Alex ran out of the creature's way and off the black strip. He hid under another one of the metal creatures, but this one was asleep. It didn't move, didn't make a noise, and sat quietly in the front yard of someone's house, the same way Daddy's and Finn's slept in the front yard. Grandma's and Grandpa's slept in their own room in the house.

After watching for a while, a few more of the angry things roared by, coming from both directions. They made so much noise; Alex was terrified they'd wake up the one he was hiding under. And what would stop them from coming this way? Alex decided to find another way to his Other Daddy's house. The black strip wouldn't be safe. He emerged out from under the creature's backside. He almost banged his head on its tail (which was, strangely enough, located off to the side of its rump, instead of in the middle like Alex's own tail). He went around behind the house and saw the back of another house. He was too busy looking in front of himself that he didn't look to the side. There was a sudden loud barking: a much bigger bark than Alex himself could make. There was a big black animal running at him as it barked. It looked _almost_ like Other Daddy, but much smaller and louder. It seemed angry, though. Alex couldn't picture Other Daddy angry – didn't _want_ to. Alex ran from the mean wolf creature as fast as he could. He didn't know it was chained up and couldn't follow him very far, so Alex kept running until he no longer heard its barking and then ran some more just to be safe.

By the time he stopped running, his heart was hammering, it stung his chest to breathe, his paws were numb from cold, yet throbbing from pain, and he could barely hold his tail up. He crossed over another black strip (or was it the same black strip? He couldn't be sure), and hobbled over to another house's porch. There was a hole leading under the porch and he could see brown earth underneath. Finally, he could get away from the cold white stuff. He had to dig a little to squeeze himself through the hole. When he got inside, he collapsed in exhaustion.

He wasn't alone though, not anymore. He could see two glowing eyes staring at him, and it smelled rank under the porch. The thing with glowing eyes had been so shocked to see Alex that it hadn't moved at first, just stared at him, but its shock quickly ended. It stomped its feet at him. Alex's ears pricked in curiosity. This thing was smaller than him; it didn't look like it had sharp claws, its head was too tiny for it to have mean teeth, and, overall, it looked rather cuddly. Yet something deep inside Alex warned him to stay away. The soft, yucky smell that permeated the porch was a small sign of things to come, his instincts said. Slumping his shoulders, Alex gave in to the little voice at the back of his mind and pulled himself back through the hole in the porch. His entire body ached as he tried to find another place to hide.

xoxoxo

They'd checked each room already, but now they were re-checking the rooms and looking _under_ and _in_ things to make sure Alex wasn't just ignoring their calls. Every door had been closed when Carol woke Kurt up, telling him she couldn't find Alex. That didn't make any sense to Kurt. Where could Alex have gone if all the doors were shut? Carol couldn't even be certain what time she'd last seen him. He'd eaten all of his breakfast, which narrowed the window of time slightly, but not by much.

Kurt opened up his parent's bedroom door and immediately saw Carol half under the bed, a linen box pulled out from under the bed and laying next to her. The closet door was open, the boxes of family records – insurance information, birth certificates, marriage certificates, tax documents, mortgage and loan contracts, Alex's Unhuman Registration Certificate – were all pulled out and sitting beside the door. One box had tipped over and spilled bundles of business receipts onto the floor.

"What happened after breakfast?"

Carol came back out from under the bed and sat back on her heels. "I cleaned. I did chores around the house."

"Like?"

Carol closed her eyes, trying to cut off outside sensations and distractions so she could focus on the memories. "I washed down the counters first. I didn't use any bleaches or anything, so he probably didn't get in the closet." Kurt had checked there anyway. "I paid some bills at the table. Alex watched me pay the bills and finished up the last of his omelet then, I remember that. Then I mopped the kitchen floor. Alex, he left the kitchen then, I'm sure of it. But all the doors were closed. I don't know where he could have gotten."

"What next?"

Carol drew her lips in tight, squeezing her face as she engaged in deep thought. "I started a load of dishes from breakfast and then I-" Carol stopped herself when she caught the look on Kurt's face. He dashed out of the bedroom and downstairs. Carol had caught up with his thought process just as she was getting to her feet and chased after him. The chances of _that_ happening were next to zero, but they'd checked everything else. When Carol reached the kitchen, Kurt was already standing with his back against the counter, the dishwasher open next to him. He had a slight look of relief on his face (as opposed to the sheer terror on his face before), yet at the same time it was still creased with worry. The dishwasher was empty except for dishes. Carol looked around the kitchen, trying to ignite a memory; she had kept so busy all morning that she hadn't even thought about Alex. He was being so quiet and well behaved there was no reason _to_ think about him. She continued scanning the kitchen: the upper cabinets, the counters, the appliances, the lower cabinets…she spotted the empty garbage can. "Kurt…" He looked up at her sound of worry and fear. "I went outside. I - I…I took the garbage out, but I checked on him first. He was with you on the couch."

"Oh, god." Kurt said it more to himself than to her. His hand gripped slightly at his stomach as a feeling of nausea swept over him. "We still…we still need to check."

Kurt turned the doorknob, Carol hovering over his shoulder. To someone watching, they probably looked like they expected an ax-murderer on the other side of the door.

He went up to the edge of the porch and looked down the stairs. His worst fears were realized as he peered at the snow and saw tiny footprints in the light dusting on the porch steps. He looked over the side and spotted a large hollow spot in the snow where something Alex-sized had landed. Leading from the hollow, was a trail that wound back to the porch steps, back down the porch steps, and in several large circles around the yard. From Alex's corral, the paw prints led to the side yard, and from there, Kurt could only imagine where. He…_they_ were going to need help. He pulled out his phone and dialed the first person he could think of. "David," Kurt's voice broke as the tears he hadn't realized were there began streaming down his face. "Alex got outside."


	22. Snow 3 Numb

**So, I started a new teaching job (I get my students Monday). I have been told that if there is no bloodshed at the end of the day, I have surpassed expectations. My classroom is in a wing of the school all by itself…about two hundred yards from the nearest living being. I am a 5'4" female. If I don't post to either of my stories in the next week, assume the worst.**

**xoxoxo**

A lot can happen in two hours. A lot _had_ happened during the two hours Alex had been missing. A fresh smattering of snow had settled over the old; snow plows had come down the streets, covering the sidewalks with thick mounds of dirty black, brown and white snow; some people had shoveled, some had used snow blowers; some cars had been moved out of driveways, some cars had been moved back into driveways.

David was the first one to arrive of the people Kurt had called. He'd ducked out of class without the teacher's consent when his phone rang, knowing Kurt would only call him during school if it were an emergency. From there, he'd left school and committed several traffic violations – enough to get his license suspended or revoked, if caught – in order to get to Kurt. "I'm glad you called me."

"You want to be a slayer; part of being a slayer is hunting unhumans, tracking them. I was sure you'd researched how to track people…and animals." There was a hint of a desperate laugh threatening to break through Kurt's voice: the early stages of a hysterical panic.

"Don't worry, we'll find him. He's a puppy…he looks like a dog-puppy. People like puppies; they won't hurt him."

Kurt placed the tips of his fingers over his gaping mouth, the color seeping from his already pale face. "Oh, god. I hadn't thought of _people_. I was afraid he'd hurt himself. I hadn't even _considered_ people."

David pulled Kurt in close to his body, trying to calm him down and warm him up; the tips of his ears and nose were a shiny pink on the verge of turning red. "It's _ok_ Kurt. Things _always _turn out ok for you. Your dad recovered from his heart attack and is healthier than ever. You were chased from McKinley only to go to Dalton and make some amazing friends who helped you fully realize how truly wonderful you are. Your three biggest bullies are now your brother and two of your best friends. Your breakup with Blaine led to you finding a new love and giving birth to the single greatest love of your life. Things will be o…_k_."

"What if my luck's run thin?"

"Then it's time for _my_ luck to kick in. You're my friend…my _best_ friend, if I'm being honest with myself; but, I gotta admit, I'd pick that overgrown squirrel monkey over you any day of the week and I'll be fucking damned if I let anything happen to him." He meant every word of it and Kurt seemed to realize this.

Kurt allowed himself the most tentative of smiles and hugged David again, just as Finn and Puck were driving up. Burt had been assigned, via phone, to drive up and down the streets looking for paw prints. Kurt didn't want his dad traipsing through people's backyards. Even though it was Kurt's baby and Finn's nephew, David found himself taking the lead. "All right, we know he entered the street right here." David gestured to a spot in the snow where tiny prints disappeared under a snow pile left behind by a plow. "Carol, get on the phone to animal control, the police and the fire department. I know it's a risk, but hopefully they'll help; this is a _baby_ we're talking about here." Another thought struck him, "Try out local animal shelters as well. Alex very well could have wandered right up to someone, wanting to play with them, and gotten carted off to the shelter; he's friendly like that. Finn, I want you to take this side of the street and head right, Puck, same thing but go left. Kurt and I will take the other side of the street. I'll head right; Kurt'll head left. If you find paw prints, call the rest of us."

The boys all broke off into their assigned directions. David had sent Kurt and Puck in the same direction for a reason; Puck could comfort Kurt, prevent him from panicking, while remaining objective. Puck wasn't the touchy-feely type. Both Finn and David would both be too tempted to get off track worrying about Kurt. David needed to completely focus on the task at hand and was fairly certain he'd sent himself in the proper direction. Every now and then, something buried deep within him seemed to be more aware of his surroundings than David could naturally be. It usually happened during sports; he could sense movements before they happened, react more quickly than was natural. Right now, he was noticing things he shouldn't have noticed, such as the way one of Alex's paw prints had been smeared just the tiniest amount clockwise, like he was contemplating turning right.

There were other things he was picking up that he couldn't even name. His father had told him once that the thing about people only having five senses was complete bull. Aside from the common knowledge senses (smell, taste, touch, hearing and sight), there was also balance, temperature, kinesthetic, time and, depending on whom you talked to, several others. David wondered if it was one of these other senses, or maybe one science hadn't really even classified yet, that was telling him the general direction Alex had gone. Supposedly, birds and several other types of migratory animals had a magnetic sense telling them where they were or where other things were. Maybe werewolves had a 'magnetic sense' telling them where other werewolves were? Like homing pigeons? Or could homing pigeons only find their mate? He'd read something about it once, but it hadn't interested him.

Either way, it wouldn't be the first time some of the werewolf had leaked through into his daily life. Back when Kurt and Blaine had cornered him, tried helping him (outing him, he had thought at the time), he had gotten flashes of memories of being trapped behind the bars of his cage. They weren't his own memories; they were the werewolf's. The memories had been accompanied by a sense of anger, resentment and a touch of panic, reflecting his feelings at the time. Generally, he tried to quash those brief insurgences, but now, with time against them, he allowed the tiny spike of extra awareness.

When David had woken that morning, the snow had already hit two inches, not enough to cancel school, but enough to make the drive there pretty damn shitty. It had continued to come down steadily throughout the morning; it was up to probably five inches now. And it didn't help that everyone had more or less shoveled by now, making the snow higher in many places, obscuring or destroying any tracks that might have been made. The temperature was David's greatest concern. It hovered around 20 degrees Fahrenheit (-6.7 degrees Celsius); the wind wasn't too bad, but it, like the snow, was continuing steadily.

About two blocks from Kurt's house, David lifted his head and turned it to his left. He followed his instincts, not even sure what they were saying, and continued into someone's back yard. There were little paw prints there. Alex-sized paw prints. Next door, in the neighbor's backyard, there was a metal post with a twenty-foot chain dangling from it. There was a relatively snow-free circle surrounding the metal post in about a twenty-foot radius. A dog had been chained up there for a good part of the morning. At the edge of the naked circle, closest to where David stood, the grassy mud that had formed beneath the snow lay exposed. Two parallel trenches were dug shallowly and messily into the mud. The dog had been straining on its leash, trying to pull free. It had dug its paws into the mud for leverage, but the chain had held fast. David continued following the path of Alex's paw prints.

Occasionally, he'd lose the trail, but the trail always picked up not too far away. During the times that there was no trail to follow, those instincts and senses he couldn't really grasp would clue him into where he needed to go next. It was both a blessing and a curse that Alex seemed to be sticking away from the streets; on the one hand, if he stayed in people's yards, his paw prints were easier to spot and to track. On the other hand, that meant he'd spent the past two hours (at least) almost belly-deep in cold, wet snow. The longer Alex spent cold and wet, the more likely it was that he would get sick. The mere act of being cold and wet didn't make you sick, contrary to what old-wives would have you believe, but it would put a heavy strain on his internal resources and his immune system making it easier for the diseases already inside him to take hold. He was just a puppy; he didn't have the amped up super immune system of a full-grown werewolf, yet.

xoxoxo

He was just too tired and cold to keep going. He didn't even really care about finding shelter away from the dreaded white stuff anymore. He barely even noticed the wind. He was so cold he didn't think he'd ever be warm again. Warm was a memory. This morning, being curled up in bed with his Daddy, was the most wonderful thing he could think of at the moment, but he'd grown so accustomed to the cold that the thought of 'warm' seemed almost unreal.

Almost worse than the cold was the way he couldn't get his body to stop shaking. His paws and teeth and his whole body shook and shook. His muscles had long ago become tense from the violent shivering. He felt pain radiating all over from the tenseness in his body that he couldn't control.

He just needed to lie down for a little bit. Just a little rest, a little nap, and then he could keep going, keep trying to find his way back home.

There were some bushes next to a front door. Not his front door. Not his home; that would have been too easy. He didn't see any other animals around, though he could smell something. He didn't even care about that anymore. If the other animals didn't want him around, well, then they could just deal with it. He limped under the bush and got as close to the back of it as he could. At the back of the bush was a corner where the front of the house met the stairs. Alex curled up in that corner. Between the stairs, the wall and the bush, most of the wind couldn't get him. It was still cold and wet back there, but at least it wasn't as cold or wet as it had been away from the bush.

xoxoxo

The four boys had split up over an hour ago. David was still following Alex's trail; the longer he followed it, the more apparent the trail became: fresher. Alex had gotten pretty far. That had to be a good thing. Theoretically, if he kept moving he'd be better able to keep his body temperature up. But the farther he got from home, the more likely he was to find trouble. Kurt lived in a cute little suburb of Lima; but that suburb was boxed in by major thoroughfares. Alex had done well so far staying out of the streets, but if he came to an expressway blocking his intended route, would he skirt around it, or take his chances? And if he did take his chances and if a car or truck barreled down on him, would he flee or would he stand his ground?

David had a cat when he was younger. One time, it had sat in the street in front of David's house. A car came down the street slowly, blaring its horn at him. The cat just watched the car until it was less than a few feet in front of him, then jumped straight up, landing on its hood. His cat had won that game of chicken.

It didn't win the next.

Was a baby werewolf, who, for all intents and purposes, was still a newborn, smarter than a six-year-old tabby cat? David wasn't comfortable betting in either direction.

David stopped dead in his tracks. The wind had stilled. David had been walking with the wind coming at his back for about fifteen minutes, bringing with it the scents of things that he had passed. The longer he allowed the werewolf some modicum of control of his senses, the stronger the senses bled through; not only could he smell things better, but his mind was translating the scents into tangible concepts, the same way our eyes translate light into images. His nose was creating "images" of the world around him.

He closed his eyes and allowed the scents from every direction to waft towards him. Through his olfactory senses, he could "see" the trees that lined people's backyards; he could "see" the sedan with the leaking radiator; he could "see" the roasted chicken dinner that was being slow cooked in someone's kitchen; he could "see" the small, scared, ball of fur hiding under a boxwood. David jogged over to the moderately large green plant and dug through its branches, snapping a few in the process. There, on the ground, under the plant, was Alex. Alex looked up at him with drooping, sad eyes. Before he even reached a hand out to the pup, he could see how horribly the shivers wracked through his body. He tried to be delicate pulling the baby through the bush, but he was so elated to find him that he perhaps wasn't as delicate as he should have been. Alex didn't even whimper as a branch broke off across his forehead. David held Alex as close to his torso as he could with one hand, while unbuttoning his Bully Whips jacket with the other. Tucking Alex inside his coat, he closed up the fabric around him, cradling him in his arms.


	23. Petco

Ersatz-doctor David diagnosed Alex with mild hypothermia, but to be safe, he treated it like moderate hypothermia. He kept Alex safely wrapped up inside his jacket until Kurt could get the bath running with warmish water. Kurt wanted to hate David for keeping his son from him, but David's reasoning was sound; David's body heat was gradually building up Alex's own external temperature so that the warm bath wouldn't cause any shock to the baby. Handing him over to Kurt, who could barely keep his _own_ body temperature up, wouldn't help anyone.

As Kurt and David watched over Alex in the bathtub, David had Carol warm up a bottle for Alex. Warming him from both the inside and the outside would be better for him. The sugar in the milk would also help to give Alex some energy so his body could better regulate its own temperature.

Alex remained a bit sluggish, but was still perkier than he's been when David found him, by the time David thought it best to take him out of the bath. He wasn't cold anymore; he was no longer in any danger. But now the poor thing was exhausted; his impromptu adventure had taken a great deal out of him.

Kurt lay in bed, on his side, under the blankets with Alex. Alex had curled himself up against Kurt's stomach, appearing as a lump in the covers. To David, who sat in a chair next to Kurt's bed, the lump made Kurt look like he was pregnant, again. "I've never been so scared in my life."

David wasn't sure how to respond for a minute. He could offer a meaningless platitude, such as "me neither", or he could dig deeper and offer Kurt a piece of himself. He chose the latter. "After my mom died – long after she died, actually – my father and I were talking. He told me about how terrified he'd been of losing me. My mother also, of course, but more _me_. He told me that, for a parent, it's like you don't feel _anything_ before you have children. Everything you ever 'feel': happiness, sadness, anger, fear…they're like shadows of emotions until you have children. Children make your emotions _real_. No one feels loss like a parent that's outlived their child. The only 'true love' is between a parent and their child. The worst thing that could ever happen is a parent burying their child." It had sounded better coming from his father; less heavy and depressing. He fell back on the meaningless platitude to lighten the mood; "I was terrified, too. Alex has become a pretty big part of my life. I think…Alex is kind of bringing me closure for what happened to my mom."

"I'm glad."

"You know…at the risk of you bitch-slapping me," Kurt narrowed his eyes at David. "If we hadn't found Alex," David shied away from the word "I"; he didn't want to raise himself up as some kind of savior, "and someone else had, they'd have no way of knowing who he belonged to…have you ever thought of, I dunno, ID or something?"

"He's a bit young for a driver's license don't you think?"

David licked his lips nervously. "No, what I'm saying is, don't get me wrong, I know Alex is your son and that he's a _person_, not an animal, but what about, like _tags_ or something?"

"You want to put a _dog collar_ on my son?!"

"He already plays with dog toys and has a dog pen. Why not a collar?" David made certain to surreptitiously scootch his chair out of Kurt's striking range.

"It's _degrading_!"

"Which is more important, dignity or life?"

xoxoxo

"You know, I've never been to a pet store before." Kurt sat beside David, cradling Alex in his arms as David drove. They had given Alex a day to recuperate before forcing him to go back outside. Alex had been leery about passing through the front door at first, but David had made sure his truck was already warmed up so it wouldn't be too traumatic for Alex.

Alex calmed once the truck got going and his tail started wagging back and forth in excitement as he watched the world pass by. When they passed pedestrians or people walking pets, Alex barked, either in threat or greeting, they couldn't be certain. "Never had a pet before?" Kurt shook his head. "Not even a goldfish?" Another negative head shake. "Huh. I've had a cat, two gerbils and a guinea pig."

"Gerbils, David? Really? Might as well grab a rat out of the sewer."

"Ah, come on. Gerbils are awesome. Their names were Bert and Ernie."

Kurt chuckled in light amusement, thinking about all the things he'd read online about Bert and Ernie since _Don't Ask, Don't Tell_ got repealed. "Were they _lovers_?"

"I should hope not; they were brothers." Dave parked as close to the store as he could, pleased to, for once, be able, to take advantage of one of the parking spots designated for customers with young children. Kurt zipped up Alex inside his jacket until they got within the store.

David laid a blanket down on the bottom of a shopping cart and pushed it up to Kurt who promptly deposited his son in the cart. Alex would _not_ sit still. He stood on his hind legs, his front paws balanced on the side of the cart so he could look at and sniff at everything they passed. Alex barked at every animal cage they passed until they got too close to a large white cockatoo. Alex barked once, prompting the bird to let out an ear-piercing squawk that cowed Alex into quiet submission. "Really Alex? You're the top of the food chain and you're going to let an uncooked Thanksgiving _dinner_ talk to you like that?" Alex just continued to stare wide-eyed at the bird.

"Holy _prada_, look at all the toys! It's like Toys-R-Us for werewolf pups!" Kurt must have spoken a bit louder than he thought because a nearby shopper looked at Kurt, glared at Alex, and then "harrumphed" as she stalked away. Kurt pursed his lips. "Werewolves have a right to shop, too, you know!" He didn't quite yell it at her, but David could tell he wanted to. Kurt was a very proud person who didn't take well to being looked down upon.

Alex, for his part, ignored the subsequent noise his dad was making and only focused on the initial outburst. He practically drooled as he looked at all the different balls and ropes and stuffed animals lining the wall. David picked one up and gave it an experimental squeeze. Alex woofed delightedly at the noise it made. Kurt and David took turns picking toys up and forcing them to squeak for Alex's amusement. Seeing if they could tell which he liked the sound of the best. At one point, David picked up an elongated yellow toy and squeezed, only to find it didn't squeak so much as…crinkle? "What the…?"

Kurt looked at the toy in David's hands. "It sounds like a plastic water bottle."

David turned the toy over in his hand and found a Velcro flap that he undid; a clear plastic cylinder was revealed inside. "It is. It's like a Poland Spring bottle or something." David squeezed the toy again, a bit dismayed at its cheapness. Alex barked at the toy. Looking up, Kurt and David could see that Alex was practically vibrating with excitement. He only had one paw on the bottom of the cart now and had his second hind paw dug into the plastic latticework on the side of the carriage, trying to climb up and over to get at the toy. David crinkled the toy again, eliciting another bark from Alex. "You want this one?" Alex waited expectantly for David to stop teasing him and just _hand the toy over_!

Kurt took the toy from David and dropped it into the cart for Alex. He immediately lunged at the toy, pouncing on it and whipping it around by its fake ear. "Well, on the bright side I don't have to worry about the squeaker going bad. I can just replace it with a new bottle."

The bottle toy sufficed to occupy Alex while David and Kurt continued to explore the store. Kurt had never realized how many different products were made for dogs and puppies. Kurt ran his fingers over what looked like a hollowed-out ottoman, trying to divine its purpose when a salesman came up to him. "That's a small; if you're looking for one for your puppy, I'd recommend a jumbo. He looks like he's going to get pretty big."

"I'm sorry, but what _is_ it? It's a bit awkward for a bed." It looked like it had a strange center of gravity and would be prone to tipping over. Not to mention difficult to get into.

"It's a puppy carseat."

"A _carseat_? For _puppies?_"

The salesman nodded. "Yep, you buckle the seat in like so," the salesman showed him the design on a nearby box, "and clip his harness or collar right there." The salesman pointed out a little loop on the actual product. "Personally, I prefer harnesses with these. A sudden stop with a collar and" the salesman put his hand up to his neck, made his eyes go wide as he mined strangling himself.

Kurt had done a lot of driving with Alex. Usually Alex would sit in the back seat or on the back floor, but occasionally he would climb up and over the center divide to get into Kurt's lap. It was cute, but even he wasn't so blind to see how dangerous that could be for them both. It had never occurred to him someone had actually solved that issue. "What size did you say?"

xoxoxo

Alex was starting to look a bit cramped in the shopping cart. There was the big fluffy car seat, his new toys, a couple jackets Kurt had forced him to try on, and a water fountain with a charcoal purifier and cooling tank. David just rolled his eyes at each new addition to the cart. They parked Alex behind them as they looked over the different collar and tag options. Kurt picked up what he considered to be an absolutely _darling_ collar. It was black with clear rhinestones and a little bowtie.

"Absolutely not."

"He's _my_ son."

"Yeah, and it's bad enough that he's got two gay dads and is a werewolf. You really want to give the other kids in the neighborhood reason to kick his ass once he gets into elementary school? You're going to give the poor little guy a complex."

Kurt snorted indignantly "Yes, well he won't be wearing a collar anymore by the time he gets to elementary school. Besides, if the other kids have a problem with him, that's _their_ problem."

"Fine, but if you're going to scar him for life, at least take plenty of pictures so you can blackmail him when he's an unruly teenager bringing home girlfriends that have been pierced and tattooed up the wazoo."

Kurt rolled his eyes at David's dramatics and started looking over the different tag designs. David picked up something that looked like his father's nitroglycerin pill fob he kept on his keys. "What's that?"

David placed it against his eye and looked up towards the ceiling. It looked like he was administering eye drops. "Oh, neat. Check this out."

Kurt took the little cylinder and did as David had. Inside, Kurt could clearly see several lines of writing, magnified by a lens near Kurt's eye and backlit by the ambient lighting in the room. There was room for all of Alex's information: name, phone number, address, date of birth, vet's number (if he had one), and rabies vaccine number (if he had one). It was pretty nifty. Kurt put it down and selected a similar one of a different style. He placed it to his eye but found that he couldn't see anything in it. He could, however, hear David chuckling. He glared at David a minute before looking at the sign David was pointing to. Right above where Kurt had grabbed the piece of plastic, the sign read "USB Dog Identification". Pulling it apart like a lipstick tube, Kurt discovered it was indeed a USB drive. "Oh, now he's totally getting this. Alex is going to be the hippest little pup in Lima."

Kurt turned around to let Alex sniff at the little fob and give it the final approval. Alex wasn't paying attention, though. He was frozen, standing up in the cart, his tail slowly sashaying back and forth. Kurt hadn't even noticed he'd parked Alex in front of a wall of clear cages, all holding cats. Kurt expected all hell to break loose, but surprisingly, Alex remained calm. David, realizing at the same time as Kurt what a commotion that might have caused, slowly steered the cart and Alex away from the cats. Alex looked over his shoulder at the two humans and let out a pitiful whimper before looking back at the cats. "You want to see the kitties, Alex?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Dave." Kurt put his hand on David's arm as David lifted Alex from the carriage.

"It'll be fine. That's not his aggressive noise. He's curious."

Kurt's stomach knotted in apprehension. He didn't want them getting kicked out of Petco for freaking out all the cats. Alex barking at a rabbit or guinea pig was one thing, but cats could cause quite an uproar when disturbed. A couple of the cats moved to different parts of their enclosure as Alex and David got closer. But a couple stayed where they were (probably out of sheer terror, Kurt thought).

Alex fixed his gaze on one that hadn't so much as batted an eye at him. It was a small, puffy, white cat with grey spotting: a kitten, probably not much younger than Alex. It was lying on its stomach, it's front and back feet tucked up under its belly, making it look like a hen on a nest of eggs. Its ears were perked forward, and its eyes were half hooded. It looked like it couldn't decide if it were awake or asleep. Alex tried scrambling out of David's arms, trying to get closer to the kitten. He let out a desperate whimper. The kitten looked up at Alex but then slowly shut his eyes to half-mast again.

A nearby clerk was watching them to make sure nothing bad happened. When David spotted her out of the corner of her eye, he summoned her over. "Can we check out that kitten please?"

"David I am _not_ getting a cat. Alex is already one of the most spoiled babies ever. He does _not_ need his own pet."

"Chill, Kurt, it's not _for_ him." Not a total lie, but close. If Alex really liked the kitten and played nicely with it, David would adopt it for himself and just bring it over to play with Alex every now and then. Having a small animal around would also be a good way for David to keep an eye on Alex's aggressiveness. If he got along with the kitten, they probably wouldn't have to worry about Alex being a violent werewolf. The kitten would be the canary in the coalmine, so to speak.

The clerk unlocked a Plexiglas panel in the wall, prompting the kitten to start purring as it was scooped up around the midsection. The clerk held the kitten a safe distance away from Alex and slowly, ever so _slowly_, approached him, keeping a careful eye on Alex's responses. Once the kitten got close enough to Alex, Alex started licking furiously at it. The kitten purred even louder.


	24. Questions and Answers

"I can't believe you're getting a cat."

Alex was running around on the floor of Kurt's bedroom, whipping his head around and making his new collar rotate about his neck. Every now and then he'd stop and scratch at it. He wasn't liking the collar one bit, but at least they'd been able to get it on him. Unlike the little fleece jacket Kurt had bought for him. Alex wouldn't even give the jacket the time of day; the moment Kurt touched it Alex started growling and backing away.

"I have to check with my dad first, but I don't think he'll object." David sat on Kurt's bed, unwrapping Alex's toys, the car seat, the water fountain, and other miscellaneous knick-knacks Kurt had bought for Alex. "He wanted me to get a dog after my mom died, but…you know, I didn't really want to deal with anything."

"Dogs and cats are two _very_ different critters."

"No offense to Alex, but I'm more of a cat-person. They're independent and don't need as much care. They're cuter, too."

"I'll have you know, Alex _does_ take offense, quite a bit of offense, actually." Alex, for his part, didn't look like he gave a royal flying fuck about anything David or his father was saying. He was on his back and had somehow managed to get his front left paw caught between his collar and his neck. He didn't seem to mind that too much though and was using the new leverage he had to try and pull the collar up and over his snout. It wasn't working. Kurt spotted him and set to work freeing his paw and tightening the collar. "You know, if you're lonely, I was talking to Blaine and Sebastian-"

"Who's Sebastian?"

"Sebastian. You know, Blaine's boyfriend?"

"The one that likes to get bit?"

Kurt ignored the contempt in David's tone of voice. "The same. I was talking to Blaine and Sebastian – about you, actually - and Sebastian knows a gay bar, not too far away. And he's got a friend that can get us fake IDs." Alex chewed on Kurt's fingers, blaming them for putting the collar on him in the first place.

David's lip curled up, not too interested in the idea. "I can't really picture you at a bar."

Kurt shrugged. "It's a gay bar. I'm not interested in the whole 'bar' part of it, but the fact that it's for _gay_ people sounds rather encouraging. Can you imagine? An entire place of business with the soul purpose of bringing together all those fabulous gay people."

"I think I missed something…why do we want to bring me to a gay bar?" David was getting frustrated trying to get the zip-ties apart so he took to ripping at the packaging for the fountain with his teeth.

"You need a pair of scissors or something?" David shook his head and spit a piece of cardboard out of his mouth. "Other than me, you don't really seem to have any friends: not since everything that happened last year - Bully Whips, prom, you know. Blaine and I think you need to try and get out more. Maybe find you a cute little soccer hunk or something to call your own."

David shook his head again and placed the fountain aside. Sighing, he leaned back on Kurt's bed, "It's never going to be _me_, is it?"

Kurt cocked his head to the side and slid closer to David on the bed. "What do you mean? That's the whole point of going to the bar; we'll find you a nice guy so it _can_ be _you_."

David rolled his eyes. "I don't _want_ a 'nice guy'. Well…I _do_, but…you can't for a second pretend you don't know Kurt." Kurt blushed and looked away. "Kurt? I don't want another guy…_I love you."_ Kurt was silent, picking at the edge of his comforter in the awkwardness of the moment. "Kurt?"

From his vantage point, David could just make out the silhouette of Kurt's face. His eyebrows were furrowed – in thought? In grief? His lower lip was sucked in between his teeth where he was worrying at it, pinching the skin and risking breakage. It took a long time – though less time than it felt – but Kurt finally responded. "I'm sorry, David, but I have Wolf."

"No…you don't 'have' Wolf. Wolf has _you_, wrapped around his clawed little finger." David expected some rebuttal from Kurt, but when none came, he continued, "You know nothing about him as a person. For all you know, he's forty years old, married and has a herd of children – one of those closet-cases that marries young and has a crapload of children to prove that he _isn't_ gay. Meanwhile, he has you at his beck-and-call; every time he wants you, you're just there waiting for him. A modern-day Penelope waiting loyally at home, with her little Telemachus, for Odysseus to come home, while he forgets about her for twenty years and screws everything on two legs." David expected Kurt to yell at him, or slap him, or kick him out; but David was only saying the very things that had been festering inside Kurt's head and heart for weeks already. Realizing that Kurt wasn't going to fight back, he added in his final thoughts, "Alex went missing, and who was the first person you called? _Me_. I love you; I love both of you. I'm _there_ for you two. I'll _be there_ for you two. Whenever you need me. Whether or _not_ you need me…or want me."

When Kurt's lower lip started quivering, David sat up and was about to apologize and excuse himself, but Kurt leaned in and kissed him. The kiss was soft and delicate, the complete opposite of their first kiss over a year ago. This time, David was the one taken completely off-balance by the embrace.

David gripped Kurt firmly about the waist, terrified of him getting away. Kurt rubbed his fingers over David's cheek, the rough stubble feeling odd beneath his fingers. There was no tongue; Kurt had fallen out of experience with French kissing since meeting Wolf and David had never kissed anyone aside from Kurt before. The kiss remained an innocent, childlike kiss for its entirety and was unbroken until Alex managed to scramble up onto the bed; angry at being ignored. Kurt pulled away and looked down at his son. _Wolf's_ son. "I'm sorry, I can't do this. It isn't fair to Wolf. I need to talk to him, offer him another chance."

"You know it won't change anything. _He_ won't change."

"Then you have nothing to be afraid of." David couldn't object to that logic.

xoxoxo

"You're quiet tonight."

David shrugged as he twirled his spaghetti around the fork. He wanted to talk to his dad about what was going on, he _really_ did. He had wanted to for a while. But how could he talk to his father about _any_ of this without coming out of the closet, telling his dad about his love for Kurt, or telling his father he was a mentor figure to a werewolf pup? For all he knew it was the son of the very same werewolf that had killed his mother. Just because there hadn't been any werewolf killings in years, didn't mean the killer was gone.

The whole gay-thing would be the hardest for obvious reasons, but what about the werewolf-thing? Since David's suicide attempt, werewolves were a bit of a do-not-touch topic in the house. It was just something that _was_; not something to be discussed or even really acknowledged. If werewolf stuff was on television, his father would generally mumble under his breath and change the channel. David didn't even really know how his father felt about werewolves. David tentatively broached the subject the best way he knew how – by beating around the bush. "Can I get a cat?"

"A cat?" Paul speared at a meatball. "What's bringing this up?"

David shrugged again. "I was at the pet store and saw a cute kitten. He was sweet and I want him."

Paul thought about that a minute, feeling like he was missing part of the conversation. "Why were you at a pet store?"

"I was helping Kurt find a collar and tag for his puppy in case he gets out…_again_."

Again, Paul felt he was missing something. "Kurt? Puppy?" Something finally clicked. "Wait, wait, wait a minute. Kurt's the one with the puppy that you're tutoring?" David nodded. "I thought you were tutoring a dropout?"

"Well, he's not really a dropout. He's homeschooling. The bullying got worse." David carefully stared at his dinner, hoping the conversation would end painlessly and, more importantly, _soon_.

"Because he's gay?"

David tilted his head back and forth to the sides, like a pendulum, trying to pick his words carefully. "Well…it _is_ about who he's attracted to, but not necessarily because he's gay." Paul frowned in confusion until David elaborated. "He's dating an unhuman."

"Ah, yes. The vampire. You told me about that."

"Yeah, not anymore. They broke up. Kurt met another unhuman in the Redzone."

Paul snorted in amusement. "Does he have a _fetish_ for unhumans, or something?" David quirked a small smile. "God. Being gay, in Lima, Ohio and dating unhumans _exclusively_. If that isn't masochism, I don't know what is."

David's smile grew. "I don't know. Kurt's just…Kurt's always been an oddball. So…can I get a cat?"

Paul sighed as he placed his fork down. "What's going to happen when you go away for college next year?"

Oh, Yay: David's favorite topic of conversation. "I'm not _going_ to 'go away' for college next year. I'm going to get a job in private security while I do my college course work down at Sinclair. I'll get an associates degree in criminal justice, then find someplace to get a bachelor degree. By the time I'm done with that, I'll be old enough to join the Slayers at the FBI."

Paul shook his head. "_That's_ your plan? I'm curious what's going to happen when they give you a comprehensive physical and discover that you're a werewolf that has been living in a densely populated suburban city _without_ registration since you were ten. Or, assuming it's only a basic physical and they don't figure it out then: you're doing your fun little bootcamp for the FBI and, oh look, a full moon. How do you think they'll react to that? At best, the Federal Slayers will arrest you in violation of the Subspecies Identification Act of 1935. At worst, a trigger happy FBI agent will put a bullet right between the werewolf's eyes, pissing it off and potentially leading to a lot of needless bloodshed."

"I…I don't know. I'll register by then, I'm sure. Once I can get away from this Podunk little craphole."

Paul frowned and poked at his noodles, no longer really hungry, but not finished with his meal, either. He licked his lips before tentatively voyaging forward in the conversation. "It's just dangerous. Once you're registered, that's it. Your name, picture, address and any criminal records become public knowledge, plastered all over the Internet. Anytime you move, you'll have to register with all the local authorities and announce yourself to your neighbors – like a _sex offender_. Anytime you apply for a job, it'll be the first thing that pops up if they Google you. It isn't a federally protected demographic; you can be fired for being an unhuman and your boss can tell you that straight up. And forget ever flying on a plane; the TSA will have the legal right to kick you off just for what you are: a human weapon. Certain airlines will add you straight to their do not fly lists, for the hell of it. There's no turning back once you're registered."

David pushed his empty plate away from him and finished up his water to delay the necessary response. When he was finished procrastinating, he decided to divert the conversation altogether. "So, can I get a cat or not?"

xoxoxo

Well that had been a successful day. David lay in bed, curled up on his side as he thought about everything. He and Kurt were dating…kind of. But the "kind of" would change soon enough. There was only a week or so until the next full moon. Kurt would offer his ultimatum to Wolf, Wolf would fail, and then David would swoop in for the win. He really did love and care about Kurt and Alex; he would very happily stick by them as long as they wanted him around. It was strange, wanting to be with someone who already had a kid. But what was stranger was _not_ that David was simply accepting the fact that Kurt had a kid, but that David _wanted_ a part in the kid's life, too. Some large part of him, that David couldn't really identify, wanted to be a father to Alex.

And then there was what his dad had said. He could get an itty bitty kitty-itty – Yes, David could turn into a big goof around small cute little fluffy things. First thing after school tomorrow, David would head back to the pet store and pick up the fluffy little spotted kitten that hadn't minded Alex yipping in her ear. She was really laid back and a hardcore purr-er: the perfect kitten for David.

Today had been an awesome day: the complete opposite of yesterday. Yesterday had been terrifying and traumatizing. The fear of losing Alex had eaten away at him; David wouldn't have been able to live with himself if anything had happened to Alex. Last night, as he slept, he had had visions of Alex squashed beneath the tires of a vehicle, or frozen clear through, or mauled by some animal. The nightmares had just kept coming.

Then there was the fact that he had _allowed_ the werewolf to bleed through. Was it just the senses? Or had he given the werewolf some actual control over him? Would this be a one-time thing? Or would the werewolf begin to fight his forced confinement now that he had gotten a taste of the world outside the full moon? And most importantly, what would he, David, do if the werewolf _was_ able to get some grip on the real world? The suicide attempt had been a horrible idea even at the darkest point of his life; but now that he had hopes and a friend that truly cared about him, and a little pup looking up to him, would he really be able to try that path again? They were hard, scary questions that David didn't want to deal with, so he pushed them to the back of his mind and focused on the good things in his life.

Things like Kurt.

David slipped his hand under the waistband of his boxer shorts and began fondling himself at the thought of potentially starting a relationship with Kurt Fucking-Fancy-Ass Hummel.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.


	25. Predators and Prey

**Guest: Yes…you did miss something. A lot of somethings, actually. Don't worry though. Everything will be re-explored shortly, when we get to the big reveal. **

**Dun dun duh!**

**Everyone else…yay! We're getting there! Only a few more chapters until what you've all been waiting for (though the fic as a whole is _far_ from over).**

**xoxoxo**

"Come 'ere Moo. Come 'ere, kitty-kitty." Kurt taunted the kitten with a length of string, trying to get it out from under his bureau. "I can't believe you named it Moo Cow."

"She looks like a little spotted cow."

Moo came running out from under the bureau, tagged the string with her paw, and then darted up the side of the bed, digging her claws into the plush fabric. Kurt winced at the tiny pinpricks and snags they left in the fabric, but let it go; fathering a werepup that left teeth marks on anything wooden had altered his perspective on the value of inanimate objects. "Someday, when you get married, I'm telling your partner you are _not_ allowed to name any children you might adopt."

"Harsh, Kurt. We've been dating a whopping three days and you already want to pawn me off on someone else?" David sat on the floor with his back against the door. He could hear Alex snuffling at the crack between the door and the floor on the other side. Every now and then Alex would let out a little whimper, upset that he wasn't being allowed in to play with the kitten. Kurt wanted Moo Cow to get used to the smell of his room before he let Alex play with him. Too much all at once might overstimulate the poor kitten and freak her out.

"We aren't _officially_ dating, yet. Not until I give Wolf a chance." Cow stood poised on the edge of Kurt's bed in a partial crouch, with her butt wiggling in the air, as she stared intensely at the string. She did a flying leap over the edge and landed on Kurt's hand. She batted at the string a few times before running back under the bureau.

"Am I still allowed to kiss you?" Kurt thought that over a minute, his lips puckered in thought, almost teasing David. When Kurt gave him a single, sharp nod with a goofy, childish smile on his face, David crawled across the floor on all fours until he was in front of where Kurt was seated on the floor. David arched his neck up and pecked Kurt on the lips, but was surprised when Kurt deepened the kiss by placing his hands on David's cheeks and pulling him closer. David tried holding back a soft squeaky moan in the back of his throat, but Kurt heard it and returned one of his own.

It was perfect. So very, very perfect.

Until Moo Cow did a flying ninja leap and landed on David's back, digging her sharp little claws into the flesh, to hold on. David grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the pain the tiny needles were inflicting. Kurt just laughed and set to work trying to de-kitten David's back by tugging off one of Cow's paws at a time. Once Cow was back on the ground, David crawled back over to the bedroom door and slowly opened it, grabbing Alex around the waist as he charged through the open crack. Even as David lifted Alex into the air, Alex's feet frantically scrambled, trying to find solid purchase in thin air.

David crawled over to where Kurt had Cow pinned on his back, his fuzzy little paws gripped around Kurt's fingers as he chewed on Kurt. David held Alex over Cow, instantly emphasizing the size difference between the kitten and the pup. Alex, at birth, was already bigger than the two-month-old kitten was now. It was doubtful the kitten would ever weigh as much as the werepup did now.

Alex's ears perked forward and he barked once at Cow. Cow responded by lifting a single paw and swatting him on the nose. Kurt was ready to pull Cow away from Alex, just in case, but was pleased to see Cow's claws were sheathed. Alex was as pleased as possible at the attention from Cow, trying to "grab" at the kitten's paw with his tongue. David placed Alex on the ground and slowly released his hold, so that his hands simply hovered around Alex's middle. Alex lunged forward, straddling Moo Cow so that his front two paws were on either side of the kitten's neck and his rear paws were by Cow's hips. Alex opened his mouth as far as it would go and stretched it around the cat's head. Kurt froze; if he pulled Cow away, he might hurt the kitten. If he didn't, Alex might hurt him. With his maw wide open, Alex made a yawning growl over Cow's head, prompting the kitten to flinch, startled, and whack him on the head with his paw.

Equally shocked, Alex pulled back, closing his mouth, and cocking his head to the side. Cow wiggled away from Kurt's grasp, jumped on Alex's back, nipped him in the back of the neck and scuttled away to hide under the bureau, again. Kurt tried diving down to catch his son and stop him from following after, but David stopped him. "It's ok. They're _playing_." Once Alex had cornered Cow under the bureau, Cow ran back out, rolled to his back and splayed his paws. Alex took a loose grip on Cow's stomach with his teeth and shook him back and forth. When he released, Cow started purring.

"How do we know if they're playing too hard? It wouldn't take much for Alex to hurt Moo Cow."

David watched Alex trying to figure out how to grasp the kitten by his scruff of his neck and drag him around. The kitten went limp and just let Alex have his way. "I think Cow will let us know if Alex does something he doesn't like. Cow's _very_ vocal about everything. He mewed all last night just because he didn't like the heater running." Alex had managed to drag Cow into what he deemed a desirable position and perched over her, grooming at the back of her head, his tongue dragging over the fur and leaving a trail of pointy, slobbery spikes. It looked like the scene from _The Lion King_ where Sarabi grooms Simba. Moo Cow shut her eyes and purred away.

David watched how sweet and gentle Alex was with the kitten and was very pleased to acknowledge that he wasn't a typical bloodthirsty werewolf.

Kurt looked at Alex cuddling with Cow and smiled at how much Alex reminded him of Wolf.

xoxoxo

As Wolf gained control of his body and awareness of his surroundings, he stretched inside the steel cage. While down on all fours, he reached out as far in front of him as he could, his ears flattened back as he yawned deeply. When he had managed to stretch himself well enough, he scratched at the back of his neck with his rear paw. He kept an eye on Human's father as the older man unlocked the cage door. Wolf shook himself vigorously before taking a step towards freedom, then paused and sniffed at the air; something was horribly wrong here. He stuck his head through the open cage door and sniffed at the concrete of the basement floor. That couldn't possibly be…? He followed the scent over to the chair where Human's father regularly reclined. The scent was strong there. He could smell it…but _why?_

Human's father eyed him curiously for a moment before something seemed to hit him. "Oh, David got a cat…a kitten. That's what you're smelling."

No, that wasn't right. Though it was interesting to know. He smelled _Alex_. Why did he smell Alex in the basement? What had his pup been doing here? He could feel a thought niggling at the back of his head, but the harder he focused on it, the fainter the thought became, so he ignored the thought and went back to following his son's scent. He could pick up the scent almost anywhere he sniffed, but the scent was strongest around Human's torture devices. Wolf's fur began to bristle as he growled. He could see it now; he could "see" his son here, with Human. Alex was frightened. Human had been _threatening_ his son with the different weapons. The fear he saw in Alex's eyes, as well as in his - _Human's_ – memories, stirred another memory; his son cowering beneath a bush, quaking violently as he looked up at Human. He could see earlier on in Human's memory; Human had been tracking Alex, using Wolf's own senses to _hunt_ his pup. Wolf shoved passed Human's father as he raced up the basement stairs and into the crisp night air. He had to make certain his pup was ok.

xoxoxo

Wolf charged through the back door of Kurt's house and immediately began his frantic sniffing. He could smell Alex; that was good. But he _had_ to make certain his pup was completely unharmed. Kurt chased after him as he bounded up the stairs to Alex's nursery. It took him a minute to manipulate the doorknob…in fact he may have accidently _bent_ it, but he got in. His son was playing on the floor, chewing on what appeared to be a plastic plate, seemingly unharmed. Alex dropped the toy – a frisbee – the moment he spotted his father. Alex erupted in a barrage of barking as he leapt at his father. Wolf scooped up his son and licked at him frantically. Perhaps Kurt had been able to rescue him from Human? Or Kurt's _father_. Kurt's father was scary and had a gun. Perhaps _he_ had rescued Alex from Human. It didn't matter, though; Alex was safe. Wolf held Alex close, snuffling at his fur and trying to steady himself with the calming scent of his unharmed son until he got his heart rate back under control.

Kurt seemed a bit taken aback by Wolf's unusual behavior, but said nothing about it. He had more important things to discuss with Wolf. "Wolf, I…well…Alex got out. Like _out_-out. It took hours to find him. A friend of mine finally found him – nearly a mile away." Wolf looked down at his son and then glanced back at his mate. He wasn't certain how he should react to that. Yes, it was bad that Alex was unsupervised…but he was a _werewolf_; it was understandable that he'd want to get outside once in a while. Kurt should have been doing a better job to meet Alex's needs as a wild predator, instead of freaking out every time Alex looked out the window. The only time Wolf could remember _ever_ seeing his pup outside was the time _he_ had taken him out and then Kurt had bitched him out for it. "It just seems like everyone's there for Alex _but_ you. I told you about my postpartum depression and, well it is getting _better_, but it feels like everyone has been helping me out _but_ you. I don't care abut why you can't stick around after the full moon ends; I _need_ you to be there. I need you to stick around for Alex and me. He's your son, but you're not a _father_ to him. I need you to _be_ there in the morning or…or we can't do this anymore."

Wolf puzzled that over in his head. Kurt needed _him_ to stay there after the full moon…but he wouldn't _be_ there after the full moon: it would be _Human_. And Human was the _last_ thing Kurt and Alex needed in their lives. A dangerous, violent, insane unhuman-hunter was the worst thing to be around a baby werepup. Kurt just didn't understand. Wolf licked at Kurt's cheek and went back to playing with his son.


	26. In Which There Is Sex

Kurt stepped up to David's front door, his bag slung over his shoulder. He raised his hand to knock, but let it fall limply against the wood at the last moment. It was like David's house was a black hole and Kurt was right on the cusp of its gravity. If he knocked, he would break through that field and get sucked into its force; there would be no turning back. But he had spent all day thinking long and hard about his intentions here; he had no desire to turn back. It was just a weighty decision to make. Keeping the heel of his palm against the door, he flexed his wrist and allowed his knuckles to make a few sharp taps.

Kurt had stood outside David's front door many times since they had become friends: only when Paul wasn't home, though. David was still terrified of coming out to his father and was convinced his father would identify David by proxy, by dint of his friendship with Kurt. Objectively, Kurt had taken note of the architectural design of David's front door before; it was a nice door, obviously installed at some point before the residents stopped caring about the appearance of the house. It was a red (very fashionable in parts of Asia, Kurt had heard), 8-paneled wooden door, with a glass half-moon transom over the door and side light windows on either side. The side lights had dark curtains draped over them on the inside for privacy.

The only reason Kurt paid particular attention to the door on today of all days was because of the quick movement he saw in one of the curtains when he had knocked. The curtain was suddenly jostled and then bunched oddly up around the height of Kurt's own head. Kurt cocked his head to the side and watched the curtain, wary of it moving again. "Cow! Down!" The house obviously wasn't very well insulated; Kurt could hear David almost as well as if he were standing outside with him.

The curtains were jostled a bit further while the front door opened. David appeared in the crack between the door and the frame, one hand gripping the doorknob, one gripping something on the curtain: likely Moo Cow. "Hey, Kurt, what's up?" David shared his attention between Kurt and the curtain, though he seemed more fixated on the curtain as he tried tugging Moo Cow off of it.

"Not much…first night of the full moon was last night."

"Was it?" David feigned ignorance of the event as he went to using two hands to try and pry Moo Cow off the curtain.

"I…yeah. Wolf wasn't there in the morning."

"Oh." David couldn't even pretend to be surprised. He hadn't doubted that Wolf would fail, yet again, to step up. "I'd like to say 'I'm sorry', but I think we both know I wouldn't mean it. I _am,_ however, sorry that he treats you two like this. You deserve so much better. Both of you." Kurt sighed and shook his head before trying to help David de-kitten the curtain. "Do you…you want to talk about it?"

Kurt shrugged as he draped Moo Cow over his shoulder. Cow dug his paws into Kurt's skin and clothes and looked around confused, not entirely certain why he had been removed from the curtain. "I'm sick of talking; I talk to Wolf, I talk to my parents, I talk to my therapist, I talk to my friends." Kurt snorted in amusement to himself as David took Cow from him and placed him on the floor. "'_Words, words, words, I'm so sick of words_'"

David frowned in thought; it sounded like a song to him, but he couldn't identify the words or tune. "So…if you don't want to talk, I can just hold you or something, or we can watch television, or…" Kurt leaned in to David and kissed him, taking him by surprise. David's mouth still hovered open, mid-speech, while Kurt sucked his lower lip in between his teeth. David whimpered, placed a hand in Kurt's lower back and pulled him closer. "Ok…so, if this is what you want, we can do this."

"I don't want just this." Kurt kissed the side of David's mouth, prompting David to turn his head to try and capture Kurt's lips with his own. "I've liked you for months now. You've liked me for…well _forever_. There's no point in us playing around anymore. I want to stop with the games and the tango and just…_get_ where we _should_ have been all along."

xoxoxo

And that's how David found himself with Kurt in his bed. Kurt was lying on his back, David straddling his hips, Kurt's face cupped in David's hands as he softly kissed at Kurt's lips. Faintly, David could hear Moo Cow on the other side of his bedroom door, meowing curiously as he tugged at the bottom of the door with his paw, trying to get it to open. David ignored the kitten, focusing all of his attention on the young man lying prone and willingly beneath him. Never, not in all of his most sordid and lofty dreams, had David ever hoped he would get this far with Kurt Hummel. What had David ever done to deserve such a gift? Such perfection? Nothing.

Kurt moaned weakly, hooking a single finger beneath the waistband of David's jeans, delicately tickling the sensitive skin there. David whispered breathily against Kurt's lips, "I've never…everything I've ever done with anyone has been with _you_."

Kurt's breath hitched. Logically he _knew_ that David was rather 'innocent', so to speak, but he'd never allowed himself to really _dwell_ on the idea. Knowing that he, Kurt Hummel, had all the experience, all the skill, all the knowledge that David lacked was a heady bit of information. Kurt felt powerful. For once _he_ had the upper hand. He caressed David's cheek, letting his fingers wander and trail through David's loose brown curls. "I'll teach you."

"So we're…this is definitely going all the way, right?"

"Are you ok with that?"

David raised an eyebrow incredulously at Kurt. "You're joking, right? This is _more_ than ok with me. Is it ok with you that I'm…you know that I'm probably going to suck, right?"

Kurt guffawed. "You'll be fine. I'll show you what to do; it's gonna be ok."

"So, um…what do we do first?"

Kurt smiled softly at David, trying to comfort him and ease the obvious worry he felt. "Well, traditionally, I think it's best if we both get naked."

"Naked? Yeah…naked. Of course. Naked." David's cock was truly, and thoroughly confused. It wrestled with what was possibly the hottest thought humanly imaginable and wanted to bounce up proud and erect. On the other hand, it was conflicted with what had to be the _least_ attractive thought that had ever occurred to David. Seeing Kurt naked was the culmination of every dream David could ever wish to dream. Kurt seeing _him_ naked, on the other hand, was thought enough to make his blood run cold. Kurt didn't seem to register his internal turmoil and had only heard David's agreement. Kurt began fiddling with the metal button of David's jeans. Once the zipper had been slid down, he slid his hand in between the denim of David's trousers and the soft cotton of his boxers. His hand skirted around David's crotch, purposefully avoiding his erection, which, by now, had completely forgotten any and every reservation and was happily plumping up to full size.

David, following Kurt's lead, slipped his hands under Kurt's loose fitting sweater and ran his fingers over the creamy, flawless skin. Kurt giggled softly and turned pink. "Your hands are cold." David leaned forward and kissed Kurt. "It's ok. I'll warm them up."

xoxoxo

It didn't take much admiration from Kurt for David to lose most (but not all) of his insecurity about being naked around Kurt. Kurt showed a sincere fondness for David's bare arms, angular hipbones, broad pecks and even his _stomach_. His fingers caressed and stroked every inch of skin he could find on David, but favored his chest and stomach.

Kurt had come prepared with a small bottle of lubricant and was showing David how to thoroughly coat things. Every time Kurt's finger brushed over David's erection, David let out the most pathetic little moan of pleasure. Once David's cock was drenched in lubricant, Kurt slipped his slicked up hand between his own legs and teased at his hole. "Can you not…I mean, can I…I want to…"

Kurt stopped moving his fingers and stared lovingly at David. He thought he might know what David wanted, but needed to hear it from him. "What do you want David?"

David had turned whole new shades of red as his embarrassment blossomed throughout his cheeks. There were so many millions of things he wanted to do with Kurt, but part of him thought it would be best if he waited until they got to know each other better. At the same time though, what if Kurt wanted nothing to do with him after this? What if Kurt realized how horrible David was in bed? How repulsive his body truly was? This might be David's only chance to ever get to live out his dreams with Kurt's pliant, willing body. "Before you get the…_stuff_ all over yourself…Please don't get grossed out but, I _love_ your ass Kurt. I wanna…I wanna be the one to stretch you open." He almost choked on the words, completely incapable of believing he had actually uttered them out loud.

Kurt, for his part, was completely unabashed. Dating Wolf had more or less destroyed any sense of embarrassment he felt with anything in regards to sex. He had had sex with a giant man-wolf. He had given _birth_ to tiny ball of fluff. He had even briefly nursed that same ball of fluff. It took a lot to make him feel self-conscious these days. Kurt rolled over and presented his ass to David, nearly causing the other teen to faint. "Do you know what to do?"

"No…" David sounded breathless. There was no force or life behind his voice; it was like the word just _fell_ out of him. "But I'd give my life for the chance to figure it out."

Pleased with how easy it was to impress David, Kurt wiggled his hips a bit, showing off his ass for David. He let out a bit of a surprised _squeak_ when David took a firm grip of each of Kurt's butt cheeks in his hands and began kneading the soft flesh. It took the overenthusiastic man-child a moment to calm down and go a bit more gently on Kurt, but pretty soon he was massaging the two globes in his hands, while moaning lowly and savoring the feel. "Santana said you were a bit of a rump-aficionado."

"Not all; just the _perfect_ ones. You have _no_ idea how much I love your ass." Kurt clenched a bit in surprise when he felt a warm stripe of moisture planted on his left ass cheek. Looking over his shoulder, he could partially see David licking at the skin. As David's breath mingled with the moisture of his saliva on the exposed skin, the air cooled Kurt rapidly, giving him goosebumps.

"My ass is _far_ from perfect. I barely even have an ass. It just _looks_ that way because I have pear hips."

"Ugh, Kurt, you have no idea how phenomenal your ass is." David had taken to laying small, wet kisses around each hemisphere of his butt, worshipping like it was the day of judgment.

It was strange to Kurt, feeling David's breath cool against his flesh as he spoke.

There was a small, light pinch, slow and delicate enough that it didn't startle or shock Kurt, but unexpected enough that it aroused his curiosity. Looking over his shoulder again, he couldn't see well enough to know what David was doing, but he could certainly guess. David was nipping at his skin: biting the skin gently and then kissing it and nuzzling against it. "Hehe. Wolf does that, too."

David let out another moan, but this one not as pleasurable sounding as the others. "Comparing me to your ex is _really_ not a turn-on."

Kurt smiled and giggled. "Oops. Sorry." He wiggled his butt in David's face again to reignite any passion that may have waned. Lining up his thumbs on either side of Kurt's butt crack, David spread apart the flesh. It felt strange to Kurt, to be so thoroughly and utterly exposed, yet completely unashamed and _comfortable. _He trusted David. Possibly more than he'd ever trusted _anyone_. There was a bit of sliminess running over Kurt's presented hole. This time, it was easy to see what David was doing as he glanced over his shoulder. David spit, as classily as one _could_ spit, directly onto Kurt's puckered anus, then rubbed his fingers over the pool of saliva, working into the area around and just inside. David continued on the pattern of spit and spread, spit and spread, until his fingers could gradually, one by one, breach Kurt without any resistance or pain. It was a slow, tedious process, but so very thorough that Kurt couldn't complain. And he didn't want to ruin the look of absolute wonder and astonishment on David's face by prompting him to hurry, either. Once Kurt was positive David wouldn't meet with any obstacle, he spoke up. "You can keep doing that if you want, but, just so you know, I think I'm ready."

David froze. "Umm…are you sure?"

"Yes. Just use the lubricant to slick yourself up a bit more and then…well, _have at thee._" David smiled and did as instructed. His erection, by now, was weeping its own plenteous fluids and almost didn't need any additional lubrication. Once he was perfectly slippery, he slid himself _slowly_ into Kurt, his eyes wrenched tightly in agonizing concentration of pleasure while his fingers dug into Kurt's hips. Kurt rocked his hips back, assisting David in impaling him. It was a bit easier to take David than it was to take Wolf, but Kurt would never say that aloud, nor would he ever say it was necessarily a bad thing. There had been numerous times where Wolf had been a bit _too_ big for Kurt's comfort.

David began rocking his own hips forward, matching Kurt's steady rhythm. It felt so good: so hot, so tight, so wonderful. Both David and Kurt began speeding up their thrusts. David went a bit faster trying to match Kurt's rhythm, only to surpass him and prompt him to speed up his own rhythm. Pretty soon, they were humping like animals, David pounding into Kurt's ass with all his strength while Kurt gripped the bed sheets and moaned. Several times, David's grip on Kurt's hips almost threw them both off-balance, so David leaned forward, changing the angle of his thrusts while he reached for the headboard for support.

With his new angle and leverage, David was able to thoroughly pummel Kurt's ass, which seemed to greatly please the vocal little vixen beneath him. Kurt wasn't saying anything, there was no "sex talk," just the sound of David's deep breathing, timed with his thrusts, and Kurt's lewd, bestial moaning.

On one particularly deep thrust, the headboard jerked against the wall, pinioning David's fingers between the wood and the drywall. "_Motherfucker!_" David pulled his hands away from the headboard and sat back, still deeply embedded in Kurt. Kurt didn't say anything, but David could distinctly hear his tiny chipmunk-like snickering. "Oh, shut it." He didn't say it maliciously, but even still David drew one of his bruised hands back and snapped it hard against Kurt's butt cheek. Kurt reflexively clenched his ass around David's cock, eliciting an animalistic grunt from David. "_UGH – my god. _Do that again."

Kurt responded breathily, a bit surprised at the turn of events. "_You_ do _that_ again." Kurt had never have pegged himself for someone who liked it "rough," but the dichotomy of the two sensations, the overwhelming pleasure interrupted by sudden pain, created such an incredible contrast in Kurt's mind that it was difficult _not_ to love. Like chocolate covered potato chips – sweet and salty: two total opposites that had no business going together but worked out oh, so deliciously.

David and Kurt fell into a new rhythm with David thrusting into Kurt fast and hard and occasionally smacking his ass while Kurt clenching around David and held on for dear life. After that it didn't take long for David to start pouring into Kurt. He had never had such an intense orgasm before in his life; had no idea what to expect and therefore _hadn't_ really expected it. When his orgasm had completed itself, David was still riding high on adrenaline and rolled Kurt over so that David was now on his back, with Kurt straddling his waist. Reaching between their sweat-soaked bodies, David took Kurt's erection in hand and pumped it, staring intensely into Kurt's eyes until Kurt road out his own orgasm, splattering all over David's chest.

"Thank was fucking incredible."


	27. Wolf versus Human

He had dreamt. He _never_ dreamed. Sure there had been a few instances where human had had such powerful, vivid nightmares that they had bled through to Wolf's consciousness when the full moon came, but never before could he recall truly _dreaming_.

Not that it was a _bad_ dream or anything.

He had dreamt of mating with Kurt, only it was different than it ever had been in the waking world. First of all, the hands that had so lovingly caressed and worshipped Kurt's body were not the tapered, rough and padded claws of a werewolf. They were the pink, fleshy, rounded fingers of a human. And they had kissed. Kurt would never permit Wolf to kiss him; he barely allowed Wolf to lick his face; the idea of _kissing_ Wolf, their tongues intermingling, somewhat disgusted Kurt.

He wondered about the dream. Did the dream mean anything? Did his mind subconsciously yearn to be with Kurt as a human? In the same way a human could be with Kurt? Or was it because of Kurt's request the previous night: that Wolf stay with him in the morning as a man? It was an impossible request, but it had still weighed heavily on Wolf. He hated not being able to be there for his mate and child.

He couldn't focus too much of his energy on unraveling the meaning of the dream; he had a mate to get to: a mate that would probably be mad after his inability to stay the previous morning.

xoxoxo

He didn't have the same sense of urgency going up the stairs to the second floor of the Hummel household as he had the previous night. He climbed up the stairs on all fours; it was just easier for him inside on all fours. While walking on two legs, he came closer to the tops of the doorframes than he was comfortable with.

Kurt waited at the top of the stairs, unsure how to hold himself. His arms were folded across his chest, but decided that looked too standoffish, so he relaxed his posture a bit and placed a hand on his hip and one on the banister. Wolf brushed up against him affectionately as he passed by, rubbing his flank against Kurt's side. Kurt smelled _good_. He had a faint, warm, earthy _musk_ about him. He smelled the same way he did after they had sex, only to a much smaller degree. Wolf smiled internally, thinking about the fact that Kurt had probably masturbated earlier. Wolf pressed his head against Kurt's stomach, a low rumbling purr-like growl bubbling up through his chest. Kurt stepped back, placing his hands firmly on Wolf's shoulders to keep him away.

Wolf moved back and stood. Towering over Kurt, he lowered his muzzle to Kurt's neck and began nuzzling against him. Again Kurt pushed him away. Wolf let out a high-pitched whimper that went up at the end, an obvious question, even if Kurt couldn't translate it.

"I gave you one last chance. You weren't _there_ in the morning. You and I?" Kurt gestured to the empty air between himself and Wolf. "We're over." Wolf pulled back slightly; he knew Kurt would be upset with him, but he hadn't expected _that_. What did Kurt mean by 'over'? He couldn't possibly mean _over_-over. "I'm not going to forbid you from seeing your son, but you and I are no longer 'you and I.'" Wolf whimpered, trying to tell Kurt wordlessly that he didn't _want_ them to not be together. Kurt was his _mate_. You couldn't just toss that aside.

Kurt refused to look at Wolf, instead, looking down and to the side, his arms wrapped protectively around himself. "Maybe _someday_, when you're ready to let me into your life we can be together again. But for right now, it obviously isn't working out." Wolf moved in closer to Kurt; Kurt backed up. Wolf wasn't sure how to properly communicate his wants to Kurt. Wooing Kurt had been so easy; the attraction had been instantaneous and mutual. Words hadn't been necessary. Wolf brought his face in close to Kurt's and made very careful calculated eye contact. Kurt kept his eye contact for a moment before blinking and looking away. Wolf ran his tongue up Kurt's cheek. He knew Kurt didn't particularly _like_ being licked, but he couldn't think of a better way to show Kurt affection at the moment. "Even if I _were_ able to forgive you for _not_ being there for me and Alex…it's too late." Kurt raised his eyes; a sheen of water glossed over them. "There's someone else."

Wolf cocked his head to the side. He didn't really understand. What did Kurt mean 'there's someone else'? Had someone else convinced Kurt to leave Wolf? Was it Kurt's father? Wolf knew Kurt's father didn't really approve of him, but that had never seemed to bother Kurt before. "He's always been there for me and Alex. He was even there when Alex was born; he delivered Alex, you know? He was also the one that found Alex when Alex went missing." Wolf _really _had no idea what Kurt was talking about; where was he going with this. "He loves us both and takes care of us. Someday…when things blow over a bit, I'd like for you to meet David, "Wolf felt his hackles raise at the name. "You have a right to meet someone that's so important in your son's life. Right now, though, I think we should all wait until things have settled a bit." David… _Human_.

Wolf's 'memories' started to make sense. Human had obviously found out about Wolf's mate and child somehow and had gotten in good with them. Why though? What was his purpose? He was obviously close enough to hurt them at any point he chose; was he trying to hurt Wolf, first? That had to be what he was doing: intentionally driving Kurt and Alex away from Wolf to hurt him since he couldn't hurt him directly. But now that he had succeeded in tearing their little family apart, what would be his next goal? That couldn't be his endgame. He _had_ to have designs on hurting Alex; Human _hated_ werewolves. He couldn't possibly just let Alex continue to exist. Baby werewolves grew into full-grown werewolves. As far as Human was concerned, full-grown werewolves were only good for target practice.

Wolf's dream came back to him: large human hands caressing his mate. Kurt smelled of sex. Kurt and Human had had _sex_! Wolf's ears flattened back against his head. A growl he couldn't control escape from his throat. Kurt, mistaking himself for the target of Wolf's anger backed away until he was farther down the hall, closer to the nursery than the stairs. Wolf wasn't interested in Kurt right now, though. He loved Kurt; Kurt obviously just didn't understand that Human was manipulating him. It wasn't Kurt's fault; he just didn't understand. _Human_ was to blame. Wolf wanted Human to hurt. Turning around, Wolf leapt down the stairs and out the back door.

Burt Hummel watched as Wolf ran out of the house and then dashed upstairs to check on Kurt. "What the hell is going on?"

Kurt looked dazed and confused and slightly panicked. "I told him about David. He didn't take it well. I…I think he might be going after David…Oh my god. Dad, can you watch Alex? I have to get to David."

xoxoxo

David wasn't picking up his cell phone. Kurt hadn't stopped trying to call since he had jumped into his vehicle. It just kept going to voicemail. There was no way David was that heavy of a sleeper. He _had_ to know Kurt was trying to get in touch with him. Why wasn't he picking up? David's house bordered the Redzone, just as Kurt's did, making it that much easier for Wolf to get to David's house. Was it too late? Had Wolf already gotten there? Wolf was _fast_ but was he really _that_ fast?

xoxoxo

He wanted Human to hurt, but how could he do that? The only way he could really hurt Human would be to _kill_ himself, which he wasn't nearly desperate enough to do. He could, of course, hurt Human's father, but he felt too much loyalty to the kindly man that watched over him during his change. Not to mention he wasn't as evil as Human. He wouldn't hurt innocent people just to hurt Human, as Human was doing to him. Wolf wandered about the woods, randomly slashing at thick tree trunks with his claws while he thought. There wasn't much Wolf knew of that Human truly cared for. He had no true friends, Wolf wouldn't hurt Human's father, what could he do to Human to send a clear message to _Back. Off_?

xoxoxo

Kurt didn't even bother to park properly; his SUV had dug shallow ruts into the lawn in front of the Karofsky house. He banged his fists against the front door of, trying to get someone's attention. _Anyone's_. It took a few minutes, but a very disheveled looking Paul opened the front door. "Kurt?" Paul blinked in confusion as he stared at the lithe teen at his front door. "What are you doing here?"

"Where's David?"

"David? I…I think he's at a friend's." Paul was gradually starting to wake up. He couldn't exactly tell Kurt that David was currently indisposed due to the fact that he was a werewolf and was out hunting in the Redzone. He could tell Kurt that David was sleeping, but judging by Kurt's current state of panic, he would insist on seeing him.

"David's in danger and he isn't picking up his cell phone."

_That_ woke Paul up. "What do you mean he's in danger?"

"Wolf found out David and I are dating – oh, crap, you weren't supposed to know about that. Anyway, surprise, your son is gay and we're dating, but you're a sensible person, so that shouldn't really matter to you, what should matter is the fact that Wolf is very angry right now and I think he might try to find and hurt David."

Paul's mouth opened and closed slowly, like a fish's, as he tried to process what Kurt was saying. David was gay – he was...he was surprisingly _ok_ with that. He was dating Kurt – ok, that was fine. Kurt was a good kid. "Who's Wolf?"

"Wolf is my ex – Alex's father. I think he's really upset that I left him for David, even though that's not _really_ how it happened. Wolf just wasn't _there_ for Alex and me. I was going to leave him, either way. But David and I cared about each other so…it just _happened_."

Paul nodded, made sense…kind of. "Who's Alex?"

Now Kurt was starting to feel confused. Didn't David _ever_ talk to his father, or did Paul just not pay attention. "Alex. My son."

Paul cocked his head to the side. "You have a son?"

"David didn't tell you?"

Paul frowned and shook his head; he would have remembered that. "No…he told me you left school because of bullying; he told me you were dating a vampire and then another unhuman; he told me he was tutoring you; he told me you got a puppy."

"I didn't 'get a puppy'. That 'puppy' is my son. Alex. He's a werewolf pup." Kurt was going to have to have a nice long talk with David later.

Paul felt his heart clench. "What?"

"I know you probably hate werewolves after what happened to your wife, but Alex is a _good_ boy. He won't be dangerous; he won't be evil like the werewolf that killed your wife."

Paul closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear it so he could focus on everything Kurt was telling him…everything his son had _failed_ to tell him. "I…I think you should come in, Kurt."

"We need to get in touch with David: tell him he's in trouble. I'm not sure how good of a tracker Wolf is, but I don't doubt for a second he'll be able to follow David's scent to wherever he is right now."

Paul waved his hand vaguely through the air. "David will be fine. _Trust_ me. We need to t-" A loud crash from somewhere else in the house cut off Paul and distracted them both. "Fuck." Paul went towards the kitchen and opened a door that Kurt had always assumed was just a closet or pantry. On the other side of the door was a set of stairs going down. Paul followed them to the basement with Kurt close behind.

When Kurt saw Wolf in the basement, the basement door ripped open and off its hinges, he pushed in front of Paul, protecting the middle aged man from his son's father. "Wolf! _Please_ don't do this! If you hurt a human the authorities will arrest you or _kill_ you. Please. I don't want _anyone_ to get hurt." Wolf looked at Kurt, his eyes narrowed. Kurt had come to protect Human; no one needed to tell Wolf that for Wolf to know it was true. How could Kurt be so blind? Human was _using_ him! Wolf grabbed the top of what looked like a shark cage and pulled, ripping it from the walls, concrete spraying into the air as the metal anchors that had fastened it into the wall pulled free. Next, Wolf smashed his fist through a glass display case. Guns, knives and weapons Kurt couldn't even begin to identify clattered to the floor amidst the shards of glass.

"What is this place?" Kurt felt a _little_ more at ease once he saw that Wolf was intent on destroying _things_ and not hurting _people_. He allowed himself a brief glance around the room; it looked almost like a torture chamber, with metal chains hanging from the walls, weapons and metal instruments of all kinds proudly displayed (until Wolf smashed them, at least). Why did this place exist? What was its purpose?

Kurt shook his head and reminded himself that there were more important things to worry about right now. Just because Wolf was destroying _things_ right now, didn't mean he wouldn't try to hurt David when David got home. "Wolf, _please_. I don't want anyone to get hurt. Please don't hurt David. I _know_ you're angry, but hurting David will just hurt me and Alex."

"He isn't going to hurt David, Kurt."

Turning around to face Paul and question his assertion, he heard the unmistakable chk-chk of a shotgun being loaded. "Please, Paul, _don't_." Paul raised the shotgun and aimed it at Wolf, making sure to slide over to the side so that Kurt was nowhere near the path of the shotgun.

"He isn't going to hurt David." Paul fired off the shotgun, the explosion of noise causing Kurt to clamp his hands over his ears and hunch over on himself. When Kurt was certain that he was unharmed, he turned to check on Wolf. Wolf was on his knees on the ground. His chest was a splattering of red blood and shredded flesh. Wolf's ears were down and he stared sadly at the mess on his chest. Wolf was looking weaker and weaker. When the last of his strength failed him, Wolf collapsed to the ground and slowly shut his eyes. "It won't kill him. Smith and Wesson figured out a way to make shot with mercury centers. His body can more or less instantly fix up all the damage, but once his body breaks down the initial shot and gets to the mercury centers, it sends his immune system into complete overdrive to the point that everything else goes into hibernation mode. He'll be asleep for a few hours while he heals."

Kurt was in shock. There was no other word for it. Seeing Wolf's chest so…so _ravaged_. "You _shot_ him."

"He'll be fine, Kurt."

"You _shot_ him."

Paul kneeled down on the floor by Wolf's prone body, careful to avoid stepping on the broken slivers of glass. Taking Wolf's shoulder's in his hands, Paul flipped him over onto his back and laid him out flat on the floor. Kurt could see that some of the skin had already started healing up relatively nicely. "He'll be fine. He won't even hurt in the morning."

"No…but now he's going to be _extra_ pissed. Tomorrow is the last night of the full moon. What's going to stop him from going after David then? Or you?"

"I told you Kurt: he isn't going to hurt David." Kurt was about to open his mouth and demand how Paul could possibly know that when Paul continued. "He _is_ David."


	28. Cup o' Tea

Kurt thanked Paul as he took the cup of tea from him. His voice sounded small, tired, and hollow even to his own ears. Paul sat down beside him, his own cup of tea balanced on his knee between his palms. They hadn't said a whole lot since they got back upstairs. There had been about ten heated minutes of "What the hell do you mean _that's_ David?"

"I mean that David is a werewolf and that is David."

Kurt was still trying to process that through his brain. Paul promised to explain once Kurt had calmed a bit and the shock had worn off. Kurt was still in shock, but at least he felt calmer about the whole situation and was probably ready to listen to what Paul had to say. "Can you just…explain things to me? I won't interrupt or get angry; I just…I need a bit more information before I can start processing this."

Paul had the teacup against his lips and lowered it as Kurt spoke to him. He thought over what he could tell Kurt. How much did Kurt know? How much did he, Paul, _not_ know? "You didn't know David was a werewolf?" Kurt shook his head. "Of course not. The wolf that killed my wife – David's mother – it bit him, as well. We hid it from everyone. I doubt David's ever talked about it with _anyone_. It's too painful…for _both_ of us. When David turned that first time…we were both still in denial. We were completely unprepared. He remembers the first time he turned; it's the only time he can actually _remember_ being a werewolf. His instincts forced him to hunt, that first time." There was no need to tell Kurt _what_ exactly it was that David had hunted. David would tell Kurt when… _if_ he was ever ready. "The event traumatized him. After that, we tried everything we could to keep the wolf under control: chains, drugs, finally we got the cage. When the cage couldn't even hold David…I found him hanging in his closet. His lips were blue. He just couldn't deal with it anymore." Kurt wanted to cry for the child David had once been. He had been forced to deal with too much at too young an age. "I bought a different type of lock for the cage and plead with the werewolf. I wouldn't attempt to lock him up anymore if he came back and returned to the cage before the change came."

"Why?" Kurt knew he was breaking his promise not to interrupt, but there were some things he just _had_ to know. If he didn't know the whole story he couldn't know how mad he was supposed to be with David. Make no mistake about it, he was definitely _pissed_ at David for lying to him, but _how_ pissed was he supposed to be? And it was kind of hard to be angry with David right now; David would be having a hard enough time without Kurt biting his head off when he woke up in the morning.

"So that David would never know. If David thought the cage kept the werewolf locked up, he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. He could go back to living a _normal_ life. As far as David knows, the cage hasn't failed since I got the new lock."

There was a prolonged, heavy silence between the two of them. Kurt assumed Paul was finished talking. What more could be said? David was completely oblivious to what went on with Wolf every full moon and Paul probably had no idea, either. Once Wolf was outside, he was free to do as he pleased and he hadn't hurt anyone – at least not as far as the news was concerned – so Paul never had any reason to be suspicious of Wolf's extra-curricular activities. "What was that place downstairs? What was all that stuff?"

Paul's lower lip jutted out as he thought, his eyes were downcast, and he swirled the tea in his cup by tilting it back and forth. "David _could_ have gone back to living a normal life…but what happened to him and his mother consumed him. He wants to be a slayer someday."

"I know. We've talked about it before."

"He collects weapons used against different types of unhumans…in preparation for his future career. It's an obsession with him."

Kurt nodded. He knew that already, though David had calmed about the whole slayer-thing since Alex was born. "I…I don't know how to feel about any of this. I'm _mad_ at David for not telling me he was a werewolf. But, at the same time, it's obviously painful for him. And he didn't know that _he_ was _Wolf_." Kurt looked at Paul for confirmation. If David _did_ know he was Wolf, Kurt might just have to kill him.

But Paul nodded, agreeing with Kurt that David didn't know. "If David had known…I couldn't even begin to hazard a guess how he'd react. I'm afraid I'd lose my son, though. I'm still afraid I'll lose my son, once he finds out."

Kurt wanted to disagree with Paul. David wouldn't hurt himself because of this. Not once he realized Alex was _his_ son. But…he couldn't say with any certainty _how_ David was going to react.

"Your son…" Paul snorted to himself as something occurred to him. "My _grandson,"_ a smile spread throughout Paul's face, changing him from a tired, overworked, middle-aged man, into an excited, rejuvenated grandfather. "What's he like?"

Kurt pulled out his cell phone. Despite the amount of times Kurt tried calling David earlier in the evening, the battery still hovered around seventy percent. Clicking on the camera app, Kurt started thumbing through various pictures of Alex. "This is the most recent."

"Is that Moo Cow under him?"

Alex sat on Moo Cow, chewing on his head. Moo Cow's eyes were closed and Kurt clearly recalled the kitten had been purring happily. "Yeah. I think David really bought Moo Cow as a pet for Alex. Alex adores him."

Kurt flicked backwards through the camera roll, showing Paul pictures of his grandson playing, sleeping, eating, posing, some candid shots. He even had some pictures of Alex on his phone where his eyes still hadn't opened and he had barely learned to push himself across the floor. "He's really adorable. Are there any pictures of him as a human?"

Kurt shook his head. "He was conceived during the full moon, so it'll take a while for him to figure out how to change. It isn't like when you get bit and the change just _happens_. My werewolf baby book says he should start figuring it out around five months or so."

Paul nodded. "How old is he?"

"He was born September 5th."

Paul's eyes went wide. "He's three months old?" Kurt nodded. "I'm kind of surprised. He looks…pretty _advanced_ for being a three month old."

"Some areas werewolf pups progress more quickly than their human counterparts. Eventually, his human side and werewolf side will find an equilibrium so he's exactly where a normal child would be, but that can take some time."

"Can I send some of these to my own phone?" Kurt nodded and went to show Paul how to send the pictures, but Paul apparently already knew how. It took a bit of time, but Paul eventually set "some" (i.e. _all_) of the pictures of Alex to his own phone. "I work today until five…I have some meetings I _cannot_ get out of, as much as I'd love to. Could you maybe bring Alex over this evening? I'd like to meet him."

"Of course! And you and David can come celebrate Alex's first Christmas with him over at our house in two weeks…" in a quieter voice, Kurt added on, "I know you and David aren't very close to the rest of your family."

Paul's entire face lit up. "That would be wonderful. David and I haven't had a real Christmas for _years_. Not since before everything. And Christmases with children are the best." Kurt and Paul talked about everything they could think of for the next two hours. Kurt told Paul about his own perspective of events since he had met Wolf. Paul told Kurt about David as a child growing up. Kurt told Paul the truth about the troubles he and David had had as juniors. Finally, around two in the morning, Kurt fell asleep on the couch.

xoxoxo

It was still dark out when Kurt woke up. Unable to find Paul, Kurt went downstairs to check on Wolf. Wolf was gone, but Paul was downstairs, asleep in the recliner, an alarm clock glowing the numbers 6:15 next to him. The glass had been swept, and most of David's unhuman-fighting artillery had been gathered into a pile. Kurt looked over the different metal, plastic, and more obscure items until the alarm clock began buzzing fifteen minutes later. Paul, sucking in a deep breath, slapped the alarm clock next to him, silencing it. "He left around five. Somehow I don't think he'll be back before sun-up."

"So what happens now?"

"David will wake up in the middle of the forest, probably. He'll no doubt be upset about Wolf getting out of his cage, but he was going to find out about it one way or another today, anyway. For now, I'll start making him breakfast. He's always hungry after the change." Paul pushed himself out of the chair and began heading upstairs.

"I like to cook; can I help?"

Paul nodded. "That would be a great help, actually." Kurt ended up doing all of the cooking so that Paul could catch a few more minutes of sleep before work. Kurt still didn't know what Paul did for a living, but didn't really feel comfortable asking. He made David eggs and sausages and bacon and toast and oatmeal. He would never allow his own father to eat such a…_heavy_ breakfast, but David was a werewolf and werewolves were primarily carnivores. All the greasy meats wouldn't hurt him; his body was designed for it.

About seven thirty, Kurt could hear the back door open. Sucking in his lower lip and chewing it nervously, Kurt waited for David to come inside. When David pushed open the inner back door, his appearance shocked Kurt. Kurt had never much thought about "the change," but he had kind of taken it for granted that David would have clothes. Instead, he was naked.

And filthy. There were dirt stains all over him. He looked like a disgusting mess. Dried mud was caked over his feet and calves. He had scratches all over his body from walking, unprotected, through bushes, trees and saplings. Even worse though, was the look of abject despair on his face that morphed into confusion as he spotted Kurt. "What are you doing here?"

"Umm…your dad and I need to talk to you."

Paul forced David to eat breakfast and get dressed before he would allow Kurt to talk to him. After that, Kurt sat beside David on the couch, holding his hand, as Paul and Kurt filled in the blanks in David's life. As the morning sun rose and filled the living room with light, David's countenance got darker and darker. He wasn't reacting well to the news. At one point he had even erupted from his seat and started yelling and cursing at his father for lying to him for years. Kurt had pulled him back down to a sitting position and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. David tensed under Kurt's touch, but became limp through depressive exhaustion a few moments later. When Paul and Kurt had finished talking, David just shook his head. "Would you like me to stay home today, David? I can tell the other directors there's been an emergency or something."

David shook his head. "Honestly, I kind of don't even want to look at you right now. You've been _lying_ to me for – what? – seven years? An unregistered _werewolf_ has been running around the Redzone for seven years. If anyone had ever spotted me, I'd have been thrown in jail for violation of the Subspecies Identification Act. I'm going to have to go to the town hall and _register_ as an unhuman now. Everyone's going to know what I am."

Kurt placed his hand over David's. "Paul, why don't you go to work? I'll stay with David."

David shook his head. "No…it's ok. I'd actually rather be alone right now." Kurt and Paul exchanged worried glances; the looks did not go unnoticed by David. "I'm not going to _off_ myself. Goddammit. I just need some time by myself right now." David stood up and paced around the room, running his fingers through his hair and tugging at it every so often. Reluctantly, Kurt and Paul got up and left, but Kurt informed David…threatened more like it, to return later in the day.

xoxoxo

Thankfully, he was apparently incompetent as a werewolf. He had done a good job destroying display cases, but most of David's "toys" were more or less unharmed. They were pretty durable anyway, but a werewolf with intent could easily smash just about anything he wanted to. After sitting and moping for a while after his father and Kurt left, he had gotten to work cleaning up the mess that Wolf…that _he_ had made.

He was Wolf.

Wolf – the creature he _hated_ – was him.

What the hell kind of cruel mindfuck was that?

David sat in his father's recliner, staring at the overturned cage on the floor. He wasn't strong enough to right it, and debated whether or not it was worth the effort. It obviously didn't do its job. Should he keep it as a memorial to his naivety? Should he sell it: try to make _something _out of it? Or should he just scrap it for the garbage it was?

David didn't have time to really dwell on any of his ideas, because he heard a strange jingling noise and the clicking of claws of wood. A moment later Alex was in his lap, attacking his face with licks. "Hey, buddy." His voice lacked any semblance of emotion and simply sounded defeated.

Just behind Alex, came Kurt, practically running down the stairs. "Sorry, I thought you would be in your room and put him down in the living room. He ran down here though. Oh, good. The glass is gone. How are you…how are you doing?"

David shrugged. "As well as could be expected after finding out my father has been lying to me for seven years, endangering me as well as innocent people. I feel like I can't _trust_ him after this."

"He did what he thought was best…Hmm, kind of reminds me of how you lied to me about being a werewolf."

David's face became taut as it screwed up in thought. "I never thought it was important to tell you; I thought the wolf was under control, locked in a cage every full moon."

Kurt kneeled down beside David, stroking his son's fur as he lowered himself. "Your father never thought it was important to tell _you_. Wolf is harmless."

David snorted. "As harmless as a black mamba."

"I've known Wolf for months now. He's as much a puppy as Alex." Kurt smiled fondly at David. "_You're_ just a big puppy. During those brief moments that you let yourself go and just _be_, you _are_ Wolf. You're both big puppy dogs. Friendly and fun and loyal and loving." Almost as an afterthought, Kurt added, "Alex is your son, David. How do you feel about that?"

David looked down at Alex. Alex had his head cocked to the side, his mouth slightly open and his tongue lolling out. He looked like he was waiting for his father's answer just as eagerly as Kurt was. "It's the only halfway decent thing to come out of this."

"It feels like fate."

"How so?"

"I fell in love with you as Wolf and I fell in love with Wolf as you. If that doesn't scream 'fate,' I don't know what does."

**xoxoxo**

**Sorry, I know most of you were expecting/looking forward to Kurt tearing Dave a new one, but it just didn't feel right to me. Yes, David lied to him, but now Kurt gets a _real _father for Alex and he doesn't have to pick between the two guys he loves. I kind of figured the "pros" would lessen the evils of the "cons" a bit (if not completely). **


	29. Grumpy Gus

"You don't have to cook for us, you know."

David held Moo Cow in his lap, while Cow reached between David's knees and tried to bat at Alex's head. Alex sat between David's feet, trying to decide if it was more important to play with Cow, or harass Kurt for food. Kurt stirred the pot on the stove; he was making a nice, heavy, thick clam chowder for dinner. Paul had told Kurt how ravenous the change made David and Kurt seemed to recall reading that werewolves burned a lot of calories switching back and forth. There wasn't a whole lot Kurt could think of that had more calories per bite than a creamy, New England-style chowder. Kurt just shrugged as he took a tiny sip of the cream from the wooden spoon he used to stir. "I love cooking. Besides, Alex and I will eat some, as well. It's not _just_ for you."

"And Cow."

Kurt shot David a reproachful look over his shoulder. "We're not giving your _cat_ clam chowder." David's face lowered and he ruffled Cow's fur, by way of apology to the cat. "Stop moping."

"Can't help it. Everything is just so…I guess I can _kinda_ deal with being Wolf. I already knew I was a werewolf; I suppose if I have to be _a_ werewolf, it's better to be one that I at least have a character witness for. Not only that, but it means Alex is my son; which is completely amazing. But…I have about a six and a half-seven year gap of time in which I have _no_ idea what I've been doing three nights a month. Just because Wolf has never hurt _you_, doesn't mean he's never hurt _anyone_." David closed his eyes, trying to stave off the nausea that came whenever he thought of his first night as a werewolf. Why had he killed that man? Just _looking_ at him, he had wanted nothing more than to tear him to shreds. Who was that man he had killed? Somewhere out there, there was probably a family still wondering what had happened to their husband, father, son, brother. His mother was dead, yes, and the way in which she had died had been heinous, true, and _seeing_ it happen had been completely horrific.

But at the same time, he was almost sort of lucky…in a twisted sort of way. He _knew_ what happened to her and he knew it had been quick. The man he killed…his family would never know. They'd forever have that niggling question in the back of their minds. How? Why? When? And worst, they couldn't even be entirely certain he'd died. If David's mother had simply disappeared one night, despite knowing she'd _never_ even consider doing it, he'd still find himself wondering if she _abandoned_ him. Had she left because she didn't love him? Did she not care about him? Had he been unwanted?

They were ridiculous, stupid questions. But unless you _knew_, you couldn't _know_. Rather than drag Kurt down that dark, depressing train of thought, he picked a less important, though just as annoying thought that had been plaguing him. "I _really_ don't want to go back to school this week."

Kurt hovered the spoon in front of David's mouth and let him take a sip of the chowder. Kurt was definitely a phenomenal cook. Eating his cooking was quickly proving to be yet another amazing benefit of getting to date him. "What's wrong with school? No one needs to know. My dad knows…well, not _everything_. I told him we'd have to talk about it later, when I had more time. But other than that, no one needs to know you're a werewolf." Kurt placed a hand on David's cheek and rubbed circles over his temple with his thumb. "I mean, someday, yeah, I'd love for you to be out, loud and proud about everything you are: show Alex he should never be ashamed of who and what he is. But, for now, so long as you're there for _us_, I'm happy. That's all I want."

David took Kurt's hand in his and kissed each knuckle, one after the other. "I will never _not_ be there for you. But, unfortunately, some things can't be avoided. Wolf has been lucky, so far; but, eventually, _someone_ is going to realize that there's an unregistered werewolf running around Lima. He'll be tracked by slayers, thrown into the back of an unmarked, black van, and never seen again. An unregistered werewolf is a werewolf with something to _hide_, something dangerous, something the government wants to do away with. I've been putting off registering too long. I need to just…suck it up and get it over with."

"Ok, so just don't _announce_ it." Kurt kneeled down in front of David, prompting Alex to, unsuccessfully, try and climb up onto Kurt's lap. "Go to the town hall, fill out the paperwork, file it, ta-da, you're done! No one needs to know. This is _your_ business. No one else's."

David shook his head. "It's not that simple, Kurt. It's public knowledge. It all gets filed online where anyone can see it."

Kurt shrugged. "So? You really think the dolts you go to school with frequent any sites other than Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, LOLCats, College Humor, FMyLife, Amazon, and Addicting Games? I've seen Finn's browsing history: it's all him Googling pre-written essays, checking his friend's statuses and tweets, and inappropriate things that would cause Rachel to kill him if she ever saw them. The moment you, Rachel, and I graduate, the collective IQ of that school will drop to the point that it'll require the employment of horticulturists to water the students on a weekly basis."

David didn't want to admit that it took a moment for him to figure out what Kurt was implying. "Yes, they may be dumb as plants, but all it takes is _one_ person to find out."

xoxoxo

Alex, as usual, heard someone come to the front door before anyone else. He scuttled out of the kitchen, across the living room floor and hurled himself at the front door, barking and growling at whomever was on the other side. Paul pressed himself against the door and pushed it in slowly, craning his neck around the side to look at Alex. "Who's that barking at me? Is that my grandson barking at me?" Once Alex could get at Paul, he jumped up Paul's leg, trying to climb as high on him as he could, but not getting more than an inch off the floor. Paul leaned over and reached down to scoop Alex up. Alex, startled at someone he had never seen before trying to pick him up, backed up a foot or so and sat back heavily on his rear end. Paul grabbed Alex around his midsection and pulled him close against his chest, cradling him like you would a baby. "Oh, it's ok. I'm your _grandpa_." Alex craned his head up and sniffed at Paul, burying his nose in Paul's short beard. Alex recognized Paul's scent. He'd smelled it before on his other daddy. He also smelled faintly of ham and cheese.

He met with Alex's approval.

xoxoxo

Paul sat at the dining room table, with Alex in his lap. Alex loved the amount of attention Paul was giving him; lots of happy little baby talk, kisses on the head, Paul didn't flinch or move away as Alex licked him, lots of nice, hard scratches on the back and behind the ears. Alex wasn't too sure why everyone kept calling this new person "grandpa," but he certainly wasn't going to complain.

Paul was all too happy to be the one to feed Alex during dinner. Kurt had given Paul and Alex their own bowls of the chowder, but Paul barely touched his own; once he had finished spooning Alex's chowder into the werepup's mouth, he began feeding Alex his own food. David, pardon the pun, wolfed his own food down, barely giving it enough time to cool properly. When Paul's own food had disappeared (largely down Alex's mouth), Paul leaned in close to the pup and let him lick at his face, grooming a few stray splotches of cream from his cheek and beard. "Tell you what: you can have my son and the cat, I'll keep Alex. Fair trade?"

Kurt delicately sipped at the last few spoonfuls of his own food while David polished off his drink. "Sorry, no. How about this: I keep Alex, you keep the cat, we share David?"

Paul curled his lip in distaste, "Nah, I'd rather you keep all three, if that's the case."

"Sorry to butt in, but I've only got a few more minutes before the change starts. What are we going to do? The cage obviously doesn't work – even if it _weren't_ lying on its side, right now – and from what you two have told me, it doesn't sound like the werewolf is going to be in a very good mood."

Kurt pursed his lips and looked to Paul. Paul, Alex still in his lap, tented his fingers together on the tabletop in thought. He drew in a deep breath and almost spoke, but then closed his mouth and went back to thinking. Kurt was the first to speak up, "Wolf would _never_ hurt me. I'll talk to him. Now that I know he's _you_," Kurt pointed his spoon at David, "there's no reason for me to break up with him, so that alone should do quite a bit to soothe his inner beast."

"_Outer_ beast."

"Huh?"

"If he's _my_ inner beast, then when he's me – when I'm him, rather – then he's the outer beast. He _is_ the beast."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "He's no more a beast than you are, David. You are the exact same person…just _not_. You have different memories and appearance, but personality-wise, you're the exact same person." Intentionally ignoring Kurt, more content to wallow in self-deprecation, David stood up and began clearing the table. Kurt looked towards Paul for guidance on how to respond; Paul shrugged and continued stroking Alex's head.

xoxoxo

"David, help me get the cage back upright?"

Pausing mid-strip show, his t-shirt partially pulled over his chest, David looked his father confusedly. "If the cage doesn't even hold the wolf, what's the point? We should just get rid of that thing."

Paul stood next the overturned cage, examining it from various angles, trying to decide the best plan of attack for "righting" it. "You can easily get out of the cage, yes, but it generally takes a few minutes to pop the lock…a real lock, anyway. A few minutes might be just enough for me and Kurt to reason with the werewolf…_Wolf_."

Eyeing the cage wearily, David finished sloughing his shirt off and tossed it to the side. "Ok; grab the edge." David and Paul kneeled down by the top edge of the cage.

Kurt joined them and got an odd look for his effort. "What? Just because I'm thin, doesn't mean I'm not strong."

"Just don't hurt yourself. Ready?" Paul and Kurt nodded. "One…Two…_Three_!" With a heave and a grunt, the three men tilted the cage back onto its base. It was no longer aligned properly with the wall and sat a foot or so away from the wall, but at last it was upright. "Dad, lock me in; Kurt, make sure Alex stays in my room with Cow until we know that Wolf won't cause any problems." David let himself into the cage while Paul went rifling through David's collection of knick-knacks in search of a spare lock. Alex was already shut up in David's bedroom, chasing and taunting the kitten, so Kurt stayed where he was and watched as David finished undressing. Paul courteously kept his back to his son until David had finished pulling of his underwear and had climbed under a large, fuzzy blanket to cloak himself. David made himself comfortable and curled up on his side while he waited for the change. "You don't have to stay down here, Kurt. My dad can tell you when I'm done changing."

David's comment took Kurt by surprise. It hadn't occurred to him _not_ to be here for this. David was his boyfriend; Wolf was his mate. He wanted to be there for him during the few brief moments when the two men were the same, or nearly so. "I'd like to stay."

"Are you sure, Kurt?" Paul snapped the master lock into place on the cage and turned to face his son's lover. "It can be rather…_damaging_ to witness. Traumatizing. It appears extremely painful. It's very difficult to watch."

Kurt shook his head and sat down beside the side of the cage, as close to David as he could get. Reaching through the cage, he took David's hand in his own. "All the more reason for me to stay." David held Kurt's hand, smiling at him. It looked like a drowsy, happy smile to Kurt; he couldn't see the emotion behind it: all the love and adoration David felt. The absolute awe David felt every time he looked at Kurt and realized _that_ was _his_ boyfriend. _That_ was the love of _his_ life. _That_ was the father of _his_ son.

David closed his eyes as he felt the change coming. Snatching his hand away from Kurt, he tensed up as he felt a shift throughout his entire body, as though every nerve had suddenly begun vibrating. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't pleasurable either. After that, he lost all conscious thought.

Kurt watched, helpless, as David went stiff, then began thrashing about. He moved in closer with the intent of moving David's head away from bars of the cage, but felt a firm grip on his shoulder holding him in place. He looked up to see Paul staring down at him sympathetically. "He wont hurt himself; he'll just heal once he's changed. But he could very possibly break your fingers by accidently smashing his head into them and pinioning them against the bars." Kurt moved slightly back from David and watched as he continued with the change. He could easily see the bones beneath David's skin shifting, elongating, even in some case breaking. Paul had been right; it was painful to watch. Kurt refused to believe it wasn't painful to experience.

When the change had completed, David – now Wolf – rolled over onto his stomach and stared at Kurt and Paul. His eyes looked simultaneously sad and angry. Accusatory. He looked at them like traitors. "We aren't you enemies Wolf. Please, just listen to us." Wolf made no attempt to break free of his confines, or to even stand. Instead, he crawled around in a circle until his back was to Kurt. "Don't be like that. I _know_ you're David, now. I love you _and_ David. You're the same person and you're both my boyfriend and you're both Alex's father." Wolf grunted out a short growl, causing his shoulders to rise and slump, but was otherwise still. "I've talked to David all day about how wonderful you are and Paul explained to him how you're _trustworthy_. No one's going to lock you up any longer and I'm not going to break up with you. You and David need to figure out a way to _reconcile_ with each other since you're the _same damn person_." Wolf let out a longer, angrier growl, still refusing to look at Kurt or Paul. "David isn't dangerous to you. Not any more. He isn't suicidal, either. He loves Alex too much to hurt himself."

At that, Wolf whipped around and growled openly at Kurt. How could Kurt possibly believe that Human cared about Alex? Alex was a werewolf pup: the bane of Human's existence. "David's starting to accept the fact that is, indeed, a werewolf. He plans on registering as an unhuman and I'm going to see if I can talk him into coming to see my therapist with me." Kurt hadn't even actively thought of that until after the words had left his mouth. "Please Wolf…you have to give David the benefit of the doubt. He's not as horrible as you think…just as _you_ aren't as horrible as _he_ thinks."

Wolf huffed out a sigh. He didn't trust Human: not near his mate and certainly not near his son. But did he really have any choice? If he remained adversarial, Kurt, Human and Human's father would try to find better ways to contain him during the strong moon. And how could he protect his child and mate, if Kurt didn't trust him? Approaching the bars slowly, Wolf stuck just enough of his snout through the bars to lick at Kurt's hand.

xoxoxo

This house was strange. He'd never been upstairs before and had only hazy, passing visions from Human's memories of the upstairs. It was far smaller than the house he had grown up in when he was Human. It also seemed darker, dirtier, smellier and definitely lacked the decorative touch his mother had added to the house. It seemed lonelier, as well: not as many personal touches and few pictures (he had to actively search to spot one).

Even though he had never been up here before, he could find his way around easily (it was small enough that from the living room he could see most of the house). Aside from that, though, it was a tiny matter to follow Alex's scent.

Paul opened the door to David's bedroom. As soon as the door was opened wide enough, Moo Cow came sprinting out with Alex chasing after her. Alex skidded to a stop as he came up to his father. He sniffed curiously at his father, having never seen his father as both a human and a werewolf in so short a time. Wolf leaned over and nuzzled at his son, surreptitiously checking him over for any injuries Human may have caused.


	30. Triplicate

**That awkward moment when you write a new chapter and forget to post it (for a week)…**

**xoxoxo**

_State the appropriate code indicated next to your corresponding subspecies on the reverse side of form 2b. Only one code may be selected_.

David skimmed the list, grateful that it was alphabetical. There were a _lot_ more types of subspecies than he had thought. He knew all the typical ones: vampire, werewolf, nymph, gremlin, goblin, fairy. But what the hell was a narasimha? Or a tengu? He had come to the city hall expecting this to be a relatively simply matter. The ten-page packet he had been given to fill out begged to differ.

xoxoxo

As with most legal or government crap, David had driven to the city hall to take care of his business. He had stared at the directory next to the elevator for a good ten minutes, trying to figure out where exactly he should go, before he decided the clerk's office would probably be his best bet; it's where he went to register his vehicle, register to vote, file city and car taxes. It made the most sense…at least relative to his other options.

He really hoped it wasn't the police station where he was supposed to register.

There was a pretty young brunette filing forms and typing away at the front desk when he entered into the clerk's office. She looked young: not much older than himself. She was probably an intern or something: someone to weed out the stupid or paltry requests that would waste the clerk's time. When David came to stand before her, she smiled welcomingly, as she greeted him. David didn't miss the way her eyes travelled appreciatively up and down his body. "Ummm…Hi. I need to register?"

"A vehicle, marriage license, pet registration?"

David avoided eye contact with her, looking over the office as he mumbled, almost inaudibly, "Unhuman."

The girl craned her neck forward, her eyebrows raised, as though that would help her hear better, "I'm sorry, repeat that."

"Unhuman…I need a subspecies registration form."

Her smile vanished, her demeanor changed. Where once she had been smooth and calm, her motions became brusque and jerky. She clicked and typed away at her computer without looking once at David. The printer next to her began spewing out sheet after sheet. Once the printer had stopped whirring and clunking, she fisted the small stack of papers and shoved them towards David, still not looking at him. "Complete these and then give them back. You'll also need to go to the DMV within the next forty-eight hours to have your driver's license changed."

David had forgotten about that; federal law mandated unhuman subspecies have a color coded bar along the right hand side of their driver's license…to protect unwary police officers during traffic stops was the "politically correct" reason for this. The color of the bar indicated the level of potential danger the unhuman posed. David's would no doubt be a black bar – the highest level of danger. Of course, David was only dangerous as an unhuman during the full moon, but since there were werewolves who could change at will, it was simply easier to give them all black bars. Why judge the individual when you could lump an entire minority group together under one quick and easy stereotype? Just as David had done for the last seven years…

David sat with his paperwork in a small, uncomfortable, plastic chair, as far from the clerk's assistant as he could get. The first page was just the typical information found on most government forms: name, birthday, social security number, address, driver's license number, ethnicity, aliases, have you ever been convicted of a crime? Yadda, yadda, yadda.

He could breeze through all of that, but once it got to the actual registration questions, it got substantially more difficult. Not _literally_ difficult: they weren't advanced calculus questions, nor were they confusing or complicated. It was just, with every question he answered, he became one question closer to exposing himself to the common public.

After selecting the code WW (for werewolf) and inputting it into the line that had requested the information, David continued on. _Were you born a subspecies or were you converted? If you were born a subspecies, skip ahead to question ten. If you were converted, continue onto question three._

_Question 3. Did you elect, of your own free will, to be converted or was the conversion forced upon you? If you elected to become an unhuman, please complete form 3a. If you were forced to become an unhuman, please complete form 3b._

David flipped through the packet until he found form 3b. _When did the assault occur?_

_Did you file a police report relating to your assault? If yes, please indicate the case number on the lines provided. If you do not have the case number, please contact the police department where the case was filed and acquire the number. Once you have acquired the number, continue with this form. _David rolled his eyes. He knew the case number by heart, thankfully. He used it as his password for any website that required both letters and numbers in your password.

The questions continued throughout the entire packet in much the same manner. Some of the questions were specific to his conversion, some to his manner of living, some to his police record (or lack thereof, in his case), some to his dietary habits – no doubt because of bloodsuckers like Blaine, some to his career (non-existent at this point in time). It just got more and more ridiculous. When the packet was completed, he dropped it on the desk in front of the girl. She didn't even glance up at him. She just flicked through the packet to make sure he had gotten everything. "Two pieces of ID please?" David dropped his driver's license and social security card on the desk in front of her. She looked them over and compared the information to the information he had written on the forms. "I feel compelled to remind you that if you knowingly provide any false information on this form you will be subject to federal, criminal, and potentially civil prosecution."

"I know." David lifted his chin slightly to see which page she was on that had prompted such a statement; it was his criminal history, of course. Apparently, she had difficulty believing he'd never committed a crime.

Notarizing his paperwork, she then placed the stack aside and pulled out a small quarter-sheet of triplicate paper. She copied some information from David's form before signing it and shoving it roughly towards David. "Sign here." She pointed to the lower left hand corner. David complied. She stripped the paper into its white, yellow and pink copies. She handed the yellow and pink to David. "The pink is for your own records. Take the yellow copy to the DMV. You have forty-eight hours."

"You said that, already. I'm going right now. Thank you." He made certain to say it as snidely as he could.

xoxoxo

Alex was freaking out at the front door, again. Kurt hadn't even heard anyone knock or ring the bell. Even so, Alex usually wasn't wrong about these things. Kurt pulled open the door and saw David standing on the front porch, his driver's license in hand. He held it facing Kurt. Kurt could clearly see the black stripe along the edge with the white, knockout lettering "werewolf." "Do you feel better?"

"Fan-freaking-tastic." Kurt stepped aside and let David slump into the living room. David collapsed on the couch and stroked his son tiredly after Alex jumped up after him.

"Want to talk about it?" David shook his head. "Would you like to talk about it Wednesday, then?" David furrowed his brow in confusion. "I talked to my shrink on the phone earlier. She said she'd be happy to talk to you at our next session. She thinks it'll be good for all of us – Me, you and Alex."

"I'm just not…I'm not a 'talky' person."

"I told her that." Kurt sat next to David, stroking Alex's back absent-minded. "She said if you weren't up to talking to her, you might consider talking to yourself." David's confusion persisted and deepened. "She said perhaps you should start a video diary. That way, I could play it for Wolf and he could get to see what he… _you're_ like. I could make videos of Wolf with me and Alex so _you_ could get to know him."

"That's…I'm tempted to say it's a stupid idea, but it's actually not that bad."

"We could start now, if you like?"

xoxoxo

Kurt was nice enough to give him privacy, understanding all too well how difficult and deeply personal this was for David. He gave him control of his laptop and swore to him he wouldn't watch the video. When it came time, in a month, for Wolf to watch the video, Kurt would set it up for him and then leave him alone to watch it on his own.

It took numerous false starts and mid-sentence stutters for him to get all of his thoughts out: how he felt about Wolf, how he felt about his mother's death, how he felt about the murder, how he felt about himself, and how he felt about Kurt and Alex. He was positive that their mutual love for Kurt and Alex was his and Wolf's only real common ground. It was incredibly awkward talking to himself, but Kurt (and his therapist) was right; it almost made him feel better, in some small way.

It took almost an hour for David to get his thoughts out, but after editing out the pauses, the repeated questions and comments, and some stupid stuff that just sounded dumb, it was only about ten minutes long. He saved the file to a special folder Kurt had made for him and Wolf, closed up the laptop and sat back, just reflecting.

What was he hoping to get out this little experiment? Did he _want_ to make friends with Wolf? Yes, it would be easier on his family if the two of them liked each other or, god forbid, were _aware_ of each other. But did he want to have any kind of relationship with that creature? Wolf had murdered someone in cold blood. And David _remembered_; it wasn't confusion or fear. He had wanted nothing more than to kill that man. Why? What reason could there be for _that_ level of hate? He (he being both of them _together_ at the time) had _no idea_ why that man needed to die. He just…_wanted_ it. Was that the type of person David wanted to ally himself with? And was it some kind of fluke? Had Wolf truly changed for the better, or had he simply disguised his baser desires around Kurt? Or what if _David_ was the problem? What if it had been _him_ that wanted to kill? He wasn't a non-violent person; not considering what his dream profession was. _Had_ been? Was that even what he wanted out of life, anymore? Wolf's existence created too many questions for David: too many questions and not enough answers.

It didn't matter. Not now, anyway. He still had a month to figure things out.

David pushed himself away from the desk and stood; leaving Kurt's bedroom and heading downstairs, he spotted Burt Hummel. Kurt and Burt faced each other at the bottom of the stairs, whispering back and forth to each other. Both looked calm, which was a good thing as far as David was concerned. Burt now knew he was a werewolf; David full on expected to get poached by the man. But so far, things didn't look too bad. David walked down the stairs, not "announcing" his presence by saying anything or clearing his throat, but not being quiet about his presence, either. Both Kurt and Burt stopped in their discussion to face David. "Good afternoon, Mister Hummel."

"You're Wolf?"

Sheepishly, David nodded. "Yes, sir."

"And you didn't know?"

"I knew I was a werewolf, but not that I was Wolf, sir. If I had any idea–" David took a step closer to Burt, his hands held out pleadingly, but Burt cut him off.

"How the hell could you _not_ know?"

"Dad, I explained it to you, already." Kurt held his hand in the crook of his father's elbow, trying to turn his father towards himself while simultaneously preventing him from moving closer towards David.

"Yeah, well it's _still_ the stupidest shit I've ever heard." Turning back to David, Burt leveled a glare at him that could chill lava. "You plannin' on bein' a father to your kid, now?"

"Yessir."

"I _ever_ get the slightest _hint_ you ain't treatin' my grandson or son right, you will _seriously_ regret it." David blanched while Kurt rolled his eyes. "Leave us for a second, Kurt." Kurt gave his father his best 'you're insane, right?' look. It was an interesting cross between his 'bitch-face' and his 'who let Rachel dress herself?' face, with one eyebrow raised, one lowered, his lips pursed and slightly frowned off to the side. Burt stood his ground, though. "I've already given him the obligatory father-threat. Go see about getting dinner started, or something. Ok?" Kurt continued to stare at his father. "I'm not gonna _hurt_ him. Geez." Shaking his head in resignation, Kurt went off to the kitchen. When Burt was positive Kurt was out of earshot, he stepped closer to David. "I meant what I said. You _ever_ do anything to hurt my family, I _will_ hurt you."

"I understand s–"

Burt held his hand up, cutting off David. "That being said. I'm glad it was you."


	31. Domestic

**This is kind of acting as an intermission between part one and part two of Big Bad Wolf, so it's a smattering of different minor things I wanted to get out of the way. Part two won't be posted separately, though, since it'll be much shorter than part one.  
**

**xoxoxo**

When Kurt woke up the following morning, he was immediately struck by how warm and comfortable he was. A large arm was draped over his own; a broad chest was perfectly curved against his back; gentle, cool breath tickled the back of his neck. He smiled to himself and enjoyed the relaxing hours of pre-dawn morning while everything was still perfect. That wasn't to say things weren't perfect throughout the day, but the perfection seemed magnified by the quiet solitude of those early morning hours: before the world came rushing in to greet him.

The quiet mirth was short-lived, however. Kurt's body had woken him up just mere minutes before his normal wakeup in anticipation of the blare of his alarm clock. David grunted quietly as he woke and then viciously smacked the top of the alarm clock, effectively silencing it. Kurt cuddled in closer to David, snuggling up with him. "I love this. I could get really used to it."

David nuzzled the top of Kurt's head, inhaling the scent of Kurt's shampoo. "Me too. It's very domestic. Very soothing."

"Domestic." Kurt tried the word out, seeing how it 'felt' when used about himself and David. He liked it; he approved. "Very much so; you know, speaking about 'domestic,'" Kurt rolled over so that his nose was pressed against David's sternum. "Dad and I were talking about you last night when you were in the shower. We thought maybe it would be best, if you're planning on being a part of Alex's life–"

"I am."

"I know. We thought, maybe, sometime today you could go home and collect some clothes and stuff. You know, keep some of your stuff here so you could be around your son more often? You don't have to _move in_ or anything, but – _you know_ – a few nights a weeks or _something_, you could sleep over."

David could tell from the way Kurt inflected certain parts of the sentence, wouldn't look at him, and attempted to appear nonchalant about the whole thing, that Kurt hoped for a lot more than simply a few nights a week. "Tell you what, you give me a foot or two of closet space and I might never leave."

Kurt practically squeaked in his excitement. "Yay! I'm gonna make us breakfast. You wanna go take care of our baby?"

xoxoxo

Alex was buried under his blankets. All David could see of his son was his tail and a tiny bit of his butt poking out from under the blankets. _Son_. That word pulled at David's heart: such a wonderful perfect word. _His_ son. _His_ baby. David stroked the blanket where his son's back should be. The small (though getting slightly not-so-small, as time went on) puppy rolled over, getting the blankets wrapped around his torso and paws. The way Alex's mouth was slightly open, his tongue hanging out and his eyes were gleaming: it was obvious that Alex was "smiling" at his daddy. "Hey little guy. You hungry? Daddy's making us breakfast." Alex yawned and then rolled over onto his paws, his little butt wiggling back and forth as he wagged his tail.

Wrapping his hands around Alex's midsection, David lifted Alex up, hugged him close for a few seconds, and then placed him on the floor. Alex chased after David's heels, occasionally lunging at them and trying to grab at the cuffs of his pajama bottoms as David headed down the hall. David bounced down the stairs; Alex bounced down just behind him.

Kurt fed David, himself and Alex a very "homey" breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. David was on the receiving end of a rather fierce glare of Kurt's when he gave Alex a strip of his bacon (Alex hadn't been given any). "What? I'm his dad, too, and I say that little predators need their meat." Holding one end of the bacon in his mouth and stepping on the other end with his paws, Alex whipped his head back and forth while growling, tearing a piece of bacon off the rest of the strip. "See? Predator."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Fine; go easy with it, though. Heart attacks run in my family, as does type 2 diabetes. I'd like my son to _not_ become overly food dependant before he can even _speak_."

xoxoxo

David kept Alex busy while Kurt did his schoolwork. Kurt and David did laundry, together. David did the dishes. Kurt prepared lunch and then got started on vacuuming. It was incredibly domestic.

And for both Kurt and David, "domestic" was a most wonderful feeling.

"All right, so I'm going to go get my stuff before your dad gets home; you wanna get your closet condensed a bit, so we have _room_ for me?"

Kurt ran his hand up David's chest, fingering at one of the buttons on his button-down blouse. "I dunno. Maaayyy-be. I suppose I _could_ put some of my seasonal outfits away for the winter."

David lifted his hand and placed it over Kurt's to stop his sexy little teasing. "I'm also going to pop over to my dad's office to give him a little heads-up. It would be kind of weird for him to get home to find out that I've _moved_."

Kurt scrunched up his nose. "Damn. I was hoping you would be able to take Alex _with_ you. I've got some wo–"

"He can come." Kurt cocked his head to the side. "Legally they can't prohibit Alex from going to the hospital since he's human…_ish_."

"Hospital?"

"Yeah. That's where my dad works. Where's Alex's harness?" David began rifling through the coat closet, seeing if he could locate it.

Kurt grabbed it off the back of the front door and handed it to David. "I didn't know that. What's he do?" Kurt's first thought was janitor or maybe male nurse. He certainly didn't expect David's response:

"He's Chief of Surgery at Lima Memorial. He's also on the board of directors, but I'm not sure if that's a paid position or not." Bending over to harness up Alex, David completely missed the look of utter shock on Kurt's face.

"He's…a _doctor_?"

David stood up, shrugging. He knew full well what people at school thought of him: he lived in a crappy house; wore cheap, department store brand clothes; regularly ate crappy fast-food or pre-boxed few of his "friends" knew that his dad 'made bank,' so to speak. "Yeah. I mean, it's not like it's a big deal or anything. Dad squirrels most of what he makes away because he's afraid I'll be un-hireable, because…well, you know. He says he's trying to give me 'a chance at life.'"

Kurt leaned up and kissed David. He didn't like to see him feeling down on himself. "You'll find a great job, someday, and you'll be _great_ at it and _everyone_ will want to hire you. And maybe, by the time Alex grows up, Civil Rights will have expanded a little bit more and offer him _proper_ legal rights. For now, though, why don't you take _my_ truck? It already has Alex's car seat in it."

xoxoxo

Getting Alex through security at the main foyer in the hospital was a bit of a hassle, but thankfully David had remembered to ask Kurt for Alex's unhuman registration paperwork proving that he was human and not just a pet. He got stopped several more times on the way to his dad's office, but for the most part, people just wanted to coo over the cute puppy, not giving a second thought to why there was an animal in the hospital. For future, David considered the possibility of getting a guide-dog-in-training vest for Alex; surely no one would question that, would they?

Then again, Kurt might get royally pissed at David if he intentionally mislead people into thinking their _child_ was a _pet_.

Alex seemed to know where they were going. He walked along on his harness a few feet ahead of David, occasionally stopping to sniff at the ground, the wall, a desk. Eventually, he came to a stop outside Paul's office, placed both front paws on the door and started barking. A few people in nearby rooms popped their heads out to see what was going on. It took only a moment longer for Paul to open his door. "David? This is a surprise. Alex! Hey, little guy." Alex started jumping up on the bottom of Paul's pants, scrambling to get a good grip on him. Paul kneeled down on the floor to see his grandson eye-to-eye. "We've only met twice and you already know who I am?"

"He probably smelled you on me long before he met you."

"Come on in! Both of you. Come in, come in." Paul backed up a few feet, taking Alex with him while David shut the door behind them all.

xoxoxo

Everything was so _strange_ lately. Not that he was upset about any of it, but it was still pretty strange. Things were changing _so_ fast.

First, Other Daddy got him the _best_ toy ever. He _loved_ his Moo Cow! Moo Cow was fun to chase and chew and cuddle with. He would play with Moo Cow all day if he could. Sometimes, Moo Cow played too roughly and hit him with his sharp claws, but if Alex went away from him, the toy would calm down and play nicely, again.

Then his Other Daddy started coming around a lot more and spending more time with him and Daddy. He even got to go over to Other Daddy's house when Other Daddy was big and fluffy. It was always a special treat going over Other Daddy's house, but being there when Other Daddy was big and fluffy was extra-special. Other Daddy was usually more playful when he was big and fluffy. He liked to roll around on the ground with him, and chew on him, and play rough (but a nice rough) with him.

Daddy was also a lot happier lately, which was very nice. Daddy sang a lot and played with him a lot more and just _seemed_ happier. He was also a lot less "no Alex!" and "don't do that, Alex!"

And then there was this new person: "Other Grandpa." He liked Other Grandpa. Other Grandpa was nice and fun and gave him good ear scritches. He also smelled kind of like Other Daddy, which was a nice bonus.

But this? This was a strange Alex wasn't really sure how to deal with. There were…_odd_ things in the house. Grandpa and Uncle Finn were wrestling with a tree in the living room while Daddy hung tree branches over the door. There were trees inside.

Alex had to tell himself that a second time because he wasn't quite sure he believed it the first: There were _trees_ in the _house_. Other Daddy took his harness off, giving Alex free-reign to run around and investigate. "Looking good. Awfully late to start decorating for Christmas, though, isn't it?"

"Carol's birthday is January 16th. She likes the tree to still be alive for her birthday." Burt maneuvered the bottom of the tree into its stand, while Finn held it steady by gripping the top and the midsection. "Christmas is her favorite holiday. She likes to pretend she's a Christmas-baby."

Kurt concurred with Carol's sentiment as relayed by his father. "It's mine as well. It's just so…warm."

"Meh." David shrugged as he went to help Burt fasten the tree to the wall with metal wire tie. "My favorite holiday is the Fourth of July. I like seeing things go _boom_."

"Huh." Kurt joined in on the tree-raising activity, showing, by gentle waving of his hands, which way the tree was leaning. "I would have thought it'd be Thanksgiving."

The three larger guys stopped and looked at Kurt. David was the first to voice what the rest were thinking. "Are you calling me fat?"

Kurt's eyes went comically large. He hadn't even thought of that. "NO! Nonononono! I just…I know you like good food and home cooking and what holiday embodies that better and…I'm just gonna shut up, now, ok?"

Releasing his grasp on the tree, David went up to Kurt and kissed his forehead. "Shh…it's ok. I know what you meant. Honestly, though, any family-oriented holiday has just…not been very pleasurable since my mom died. It's ok, though. I have a new family and I'm sure she would approve. By the way, is it ok if my dad joins us for dinner? He offered to bring Chinese or pizza or takeout from Breakstix. Whatever."

"That's fine, kid. Your dad's a part of this family now, too." Burt put his hand on David's shoulder.

Kurt had been shocked that his father hadn't scared David away during their "private talk" the previous night, but the two men seemed pretty friendly with each other, afterwards. Friendlier than Kurt had ever seen them, anyway. "You know, I bet if you lived in Scotland or Ireland a few centuries ago, there's another holiday you probably would have _adored_." David raised an eyebrow in semi-interest, semi-confusion. Where was Kurt going with this? "Back when the Church was preempting pagan holidays for their own uses – such as Christmas or Easter – there was a holiday that celebrated unhumans. It didn't last long, though."

"A day celebrating _unhumans_? You're joking right?" The objection came from Finn, surprisingly enough.

"I'm not. It was called '_All Hallow's Eve' _or '_Halloween_.'"

"So…how did they celebrate it?"

Kurt shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure. I only read about it once very briefly, but perhaps it's like the Thanksgiving Presidential Turkey Pardon? Maybe they forgave unhumans for their 'crimes'?"

David rolled his eyes. "_Or_, more likely, it was closer to the Spanish holiday 'Las Posadas,' only instead of piñatas, they strung up unhumans and whacked the shit out of them."


	32. Bad, Badder, Worst

**Regarding Halloween:**

**At one point in the story, I said to myself "How cute would it be for Kurt to dress Alex up for Halloween?" Then I said "Fuck, I missed Halloween (story timeline-wise)." Then I started thinking about how Halloween would be celebrated in a world where "monsters" walk among men everyday. Then I realized that they probably wouldn't celebrate it. It would be like pre-emancipation US celebrating Black History Month; culturally it wouldn't make sense. Hence, a pagan society celebrating the holiday and the church doing away with it. That's why David didn't know about Halloween; it's obsolete.  
**

**Important note for this chapter: **

**You know on Glee when a character is singing in the middle of the halls but not a damned person notices? Yeah, that's gonna happen in this chapter, so just be aware that that's why no one notices it.**

**And yes, I know "badder" isn't a word, but I liked the way it sounded.  
**

**xoxoxo**

Christmas came and went with an inordinate amount of flair. Alex came out of the holiday no doubt thinking its purpose was to worship him. Burt and Paul seemed to have entered into an unspoken competition to see who could spoil Alex the worst.

As stocking stuffers, Paul had purchased Alex gourmet treats and homemade rawhide chew toys; Burt had purchased Alex Puffs and Yogis. Burt had bought Alex a collection of squeaky toys (with a set of replaceable squeakers he'd found on Amazon); Paul had bought Alex the Hyper Pet Flying Duck. Paul had bought Alex the Laugh and Learn Musical Table from Fischer-Price; Burt had bought Alex he Little Tikes Sports Center. Burt had made Alex a small wooden puppy castle that he could hide in (and Moo Cow could climb all over); Paul had bought Alex a week at puppy play camp.

After that the real competition started up. Burt mentioned that, once the snow had cleared, he was going to have the entire yard fenced in so Alex would have more room to run and play. Paul said that he had started looking at playscapes to put in his backyard come spring. Burt countered that he'd been looking at having a pool put in. Kurt had to silence them both before Alex wound up with a convertible before he even had opposable thumbs.

Everyone had purchased Alex the obligatory baby clothes, guessing sizes for several months down the line and holding on to gift receipts just in case. There had also been a smattering of fun and educational games for dogs and for toddlers. Alex's favorite of those appeared to be the farm-themed See and Say Finn had gotten him; the cat was his favorite noise, but the turkey frightened him. He'd bark happily every time the plastic toy said, "The cat says…_Meow_!" and growl and back up every time it said, "The turkey says…_Gobble!_"

David, for his part, had wound up with some new clothes courtesy of his baby-daddy. He thought he looked pretty snazzy in them as he returned to McKinley for the first time in three weeks: the first time he'd been back since registering as an unhuman. He'd taken a week off to spend time with his new family and just…_cope_ with the knowledge that he was Wolf. The following two weeks had been school vacation so that the students and staff could travel for Christmas and New Year's. Three weeks of no school. Maybe no one knew David was an unhuman. Maybe no one _cared_?

The parking lot felt surprisingly empty as David made his way from his truck to the front door of the school. His football gear slung over his shoulder, David entered into McKinley, nearly psyched about his first football practice in almost a month. He hadn't realized how much he was starting to enjoy the pulsing burn of his muscles after a workout until he'd stopped feeling it. His snow-moistened sneakers squished sloppily in the freshly waxed hall, echoing throughout the building. It was a quiet, lonely walk to the locker room: only the sound of his squishing sneakers to break the loneliness.

The noise was slightly alleviated as he approached the locker room door, though. He could hear the low mumbles of teen boys laughing and teasing on the other side of the entrance. There was the occasional slam of a locker or the hoot of someone laughing at their own stupid joke.

Shoving the swinging door open, David pushed his way into the locker room. The din instantly died down, as his teammates looked him over. David eyed over the teens wearily; he wasn't the smallest person on the team, but he was by no means the largest, either. One of the half-backs, a junior David only knew through football, held a book bag that looked suspiciously like the bag David kept his spare clothes and sneakers in. Swinging his arm back, he lobbed the bag, underhanded, at David. David caught it against his chest with an "oof." Tearing his eyes away from his fellow Titans for a moment, David scanned his eyes over towards his locker; his lock lay in pieces on the floor. His locker stood wide open and mostly empty, only his letterman hanging listlessly over the side of the bottom. David eyed over the football players; one caught his eye and spoke for the team. "You've got your shit, now get out. Don't make this shit more than it gotta be."

Keeping his eyes on as many of the guys as he could, flickering his pupils back and forth from one padded lineman to the next, he edged his way closer to his locker. One of the players, a safety, saw what David was after and snatched the letterman out of the locker and threw it into a nearby garbage can, "Not for you. Not anymore."

David lowered his head, resigned. He couldn't stand up to a handful of these guys, let alone all of them at the same time. Even if he got jumped, never threw a punch, _he_ would be the one to be arrested. He was a werewolf. His very existence justified "self-defense" on the part of his attackers. David left the locker room; when the door was closed all the way and the noise had started back up on the other side, he leaned against the door and closed his eyes.

_**Close every door to me,  
Hide all the world from me  
Bar all the windows  
And shut out the light**_

The day wore on as kids glared at him in disgust or voiced their hatred of him – of what he was. Registering as an unhuman had announced the start of open-season on David. He was an unhuman and homosexual. He was a "faggot freak" – at least if the wall by the urinal was to be believed.

_**Do what you want with me,  
Hate me and laugh at me  
Darken my daytime  
And torture my night**_

By day two, someone from the football team had brought in physical proof to accompany the rumors, giving the student body free-reign to step-up the insults and minor acts of physical assault. David's shoulder ached from the amount of times he'd been checked into the locker. He wanted to apologize to Kurt, again, for all the horrible things he'd done to him all those long months ago, but didn't want to let Kurt in on the fact that he was having trouble at school. He toughed out the days then plastered a smile on his face as he got home that quickly turned genuine when his boyfriend and son greeted him at the front door.

Finn had been sworn to silence about what was going on at school.

_**If my life were important I  
Would ask will I live or die  
But I know the answers lie  
Far from this world **_

He sat at his lunch table, all by himself as cold blue and red slushy melted together on his head, leaving purplish drops all over his food. He looked up in time to see two hockey players skulking away from him while the rest of the cafeteria either ignored what had just happened or openly delighted in it. He had no doubt his food-dyed-face would be all over someone's Facebook or twitter within the hour. Standing up, David deposited his ruined food in the nearest garbage can before stalking out of the lunchroom.

By Wednesday evening, Kurt was starting to sense something was wrong with David, but David just shrugged it off and told him he was going through a mid-winter funk. Kurt didn't buy it for a second, but knew that David would talk to him when he was ready.

David went to school Thursday morning, fully prepared with a towel and several changes of clothes, just in case. "Just in case," proved its worth several times over throughout the day.

Teachers, for the most part, turned a blind eye. A few threw out the infrequent, uninspiring, non-threatening, "Hey, now; behave."

It got worse when he was on his way to his locker after lunch and found several of the glee-guys standing around his locker. He wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or on the defensive, but he steeled himself…_just in case_.

As he got closer, the cluster of singers parted so that David could see what they had been crowded around. Someone had hung a picture on his locker. It was an 8 ½ by 11 color print out from some deviant pornography site. An emaciated girl with overly large breasts was on her hands and knees as a gigantic dog – a great dane, David believed – mounted her from behind. A smiling photo of Kurt's face had been poorly photoshopped over the girl's; David's own face had been photoshopped over the dogs'. Reaching his hand out to rip it down, David found he had difficulty getting the edge to peel over enough to pull it down.

"I think they used shellac". David ran his hand over the picture; Mike was right. It still had that slightly tacky feeling shellac left behind. Then there was the chemical smell. David nodded and walked away. He couldn't deal with this shit now.

_**Close every door to me,  
Keep those I love from me  
Children of Israel  
Are never alone**_

_**For I know I shall find  
My own peace of mind  
For I have been promised  
A land of my own**_

He spent the afternoon avoiding Kurt, instead cloistering himself in the nursery playing with Alex or playing with Alex outside. He wanted to take Alex to the park or something so that they could play, but realized that that would be a stupidly dangerous decision.

Friday proved to be the worst day. The football players and the hockey team had begun coordinating their attacks. Once the last pair of David's clean clothes had been destroyed for the day, two of the football players and one of the hockey players held him pinned to the locker while a fourth guy just wailed on him; punching everywhere he could reach that would be hidden by clothes. Wolf may have had a phenomenal healing powers, but David was as delicate as any other human.

_**Close every door to me,  
Hide all the world from me  
Bar all the windows  
And shut out the light **_

At one point in the day, David was called down to the office. He had hoped against hope that the administration would want to know about the abuse and harassment he had suffered the past week.

Instead, he was asked to fill out information for his permanent record disclosing himself, officially, as an unhuman. He was also asked to fill out affidavits that he was an unhuman, knew he was an unhuman, had knowingly violated the _National Federation of State High School Association_'s injunction against unhumans playing organized sports and that McKinley High School was completely unaware and should not be held liable for the ramifications.

_**Just give me a number  
Instead of my name  
Forget all about me  
And let me decay  
**_

_**If my life were important I  
Would ask will I live or die  
But I know the answers lie  
Far from this world**_

Fed up and feeling more alone in the world than ever before, David finished up the last of the paperwork in the office before leaving. School was almost done for the day. He hid out, avoiding his last class of the day. The teacher was an epic douche, anyway. He kept throwing in snide little comments about unhumans throughout his lectures that week.

When the final bell rang, and students stampeded to get out of the building and get home for the weekend, David continued to hide. He waited until the last shuffling of shoes disappeared down the halls. David snuck out the bathroom stall he'd been hiding in and, rather than go home himself, he went deeper into the heart of the school.

After a few minutes, he came to stop before a larger classroom. He hesitated for a minute before pushing the door open.

_**Close every door to me,  
Keep those I love from me  
Children of Israel  
Are never alone**_

_**For we know we shall find  
Our own peace of mind  
For we have been promised  
A land of our own**_

A dozen or so sets of eyes looked up at him as he stood dumbly before the members of New Directions. "Umm…are you looking for new members?"

If you're going to be a complete outcast, at least there was safety in numbers.

**xoxoxo******

Song is "Close Every Door" by Andrew Lloyd Webber  



	33. Whittaker

**Yeah, I know this is short, but this is just a filler chapter.**

**xoxoxo**

"It's getting harder to get up every morning. I just…I kind of want to go into hibernation mode: go to sleep for a few months and wake up to have all this…all this _shit_ be over." The image of Human on the computer sighed, then ran his fingers through his hair. "You know, sometimes on my way to school, I think about how easy it would be to drive my truck through the guardrail. No more school, no more werewolf-crap, no more stress. Alex and Kurt are really the only things keeping me going. And my dad."

Wolf had changed about an hour ago. He had "woken up" in Kurt's bed, his mate sitting a safe distance away from the bed, watching him with a slightly pained expression on his face. When Wolf had blinked up at Kurt, dazed and confused, Kurt's expression had eased into calm relief. Kurt explained to Wolf that Human – David – had moved into the Hummel-Hudson household. Wolf didn't like that one bit, but Kurt didn't give him an opportunity to object. Kurt had continued on to tell Wolf that Human had registered as an unhuman and that everything should be explained in the video. Kurt then set the video up for Wolf, giving Wolf orders to come find Kurt in the nursery when the video was over.

So, Wolf watched the video.

Human had begun his testimony on the video haltingly and hesitantly, with the words coming out fast and furious one moment, and quietly or not at all the next. There were many "cut screens" early on in the video, but as Human became more accustomed to talking to the computer, the cut screens came less and less. There were some videos Kurt had taken of Human playing with Alex interspersed amongst the video diary entries, but mainly the video was just Human talking to Wolf. Initially, Human had mostly aired his grievances against werewolves and Wolf. But after some time, the entries became more personal.

The words weren't so important to Wolf though. It was Human's body language. Or more specifically, the _change_ in Human's body language. After the first few minutes of a stiff, emotionally void Human, the early videos all featured an animated Human, with jerking hand motions to accompany his testimony. Then, the last week's worth of videos had featured an increasingly subdued Human. He had become calmer and quieter in those past few clips. Weary. Not physically, but mentally, and perhaps even spiritually. The only time life seemed to return to what was little more than a shadow of Human, was when he was playing with Alex.

Wolf never would have guessed it, but perhaps Human really _did_ care for Alex.

As the time indicator bar slid to the right on the video player, it came to the last video entry. "I registered as an unhuman almost a month ago. I've been repeatedly assaulted by teens and adults: students _and_ _teachers_. I've been denied service at almost every store that's recognized me. I've lost all my friends. I found out that McKinley is now being investigated by the sports-powers-that-be; their athletic record will probably be ripped to shreds. Every game I ever participated in will now be considered a 'forfeit' or whatever. You can imagine how many jocks are going to lose scholarships as a result. Yep…I'm mister popularity right now. And yet, that isn't event the worst of it. The worst thing that _could_ happen, the thing I've worried about since I was first bit…I got to school this morning, and, they know about me now…" Human swallowed heavily and blinked rapidly, trying to disperse the tears that were building up in the corners of his eyes.

"…slayers."

_That morning_

Thank god he drove a clunker. He'd only gotten back to school a week ago and there were already scratches all over his truck. It seemed like the new "in thing": key the werewolf's truck while he's watching and enjoy the fact that he couldn't do a _damn_ thing to stop you. Hell, it was practically becoming a spectator sport. Kurt didn't know about it though. Burt may not have owned an autobody shop, but he was more than capable of doing some quick patchwork at the garage. David drove by each day, after school, to "help out" so that Burt could do a little light cosmetic fix-up.

Finn, Burt, and David had created a little emotional support group between themselves. David hadn't known until now, but apparently Finn and Burt had been shielding Kurt from a significant amount of bullying and harassment since he had first gotten pregnant with Alex. They had hidden much of the harassment from Kurt the same way David hid his own troubles from his love.

Things seemed to have multiplied since David "came out" as a werewolf. People finally had a face to give to their hatred. Or, in the case of most people, they were just naturally douche-bags and had finally found someone it was socially acceptable to hate.

David easily got the worst of his classmate's ire. That's why he intentionally came to school each day on the cusp of being late for the tardy bell. There were less people in the parking lots at this time; less people to try and jump him. If he got to school abnormally early, he would run the risk of getting cornered and attacked by jocks.

But despite his best efforts at being alone, there was someone else in the parking lot. A large black SUV, an escalade with heavily tinted windows, sat in the fire lane just outside the front entrance of the building. A man David had seen before leaned against the side of the hood. David would have happily gone around to a side entrance of the building, but he knew, from past experience, that they would be locked by now to prevent stragglers from sneaking into the building without checking into the main office. The man was unavoidable, unless David turned around and went back to his own vehicle. He had been spotted though, making a successful retreat a slim possibility.

Perhaps if he kept his head down, the officer wouldn't recognize David as the boy he was looking for.

No such luck.

"David Karofsky, mind if I have a few words with you?"

"I'm sorry, I'm late for school."

The man cut him off. "David, I'm not sure if you remember me or not–"

"Agent Whittaker." David looked the man over. He had known him the moment he'd seen him, but this was the first time he'd ever gotten a really good look at him. Every time they had met when David was a child, David had looked anywhere in the room _but_ the man, terrified of making eye contact. His hazy memories of the man proved true, however. He was tall and lean, perhaps just over six feet tall. He was entirely clean-shaven, scalp and all. His ears were smaller and set back farther on his head, but his eyes were large. He had decidedly dark skin, but not what you would typically picture for a black man. It was like someone had taken a deep, rich brown and tinged it with yellow: like a bucket of coffee-colored paint with a layer of olive oil floating on the surface.

"I'd like us to talk for a bit."

"I'm sure; but, like I told you, I'm late for school."

As David skirted around the FBI agent, Whittaker held out his hand, a white card extended in his fingers. "Of course. Education always comes first; but, when you get a chance, if you'd be so kind." David took the business card and crumpled it in his fist as he continued his path towards the school.

_Present_

Human cut the video off the moment his recounting of events had finished. It wasn't until a few moments of staring at a blank, black computer screen that Wolf realized the video journal was over. It took him another moment to realize he had tensed up listening to the last entry. His ears lay flat against his head, his hackles stood up, bristling, and his jaw was clenched. He forced himself to relax his jaw until the pressure eased up. Once his jaw was no longer clenched, he lifted his ears back up, and his hair gradually went back to normal as he eased himself.

His perception of Human had changed significantly watching the video; he still wasn't entirely positive Human was completely reformed and actually _tolerated_ werewolves now (in fact, some of his videos had flat-out stated that Human himself wasn't sure whether he hated all werewolves that weren't his son, or simply re-assigned his hatred of the werewolf that killed his mother to all other werewolves), but Human wasn't the horrific unhuman killer Wolf had always viewed him as.

Glancing once more at the computer screen, Wolf slunk down to the floor, padding quietly on all fours as he went in search of Kurt and his son in the nursery.

xoxoxo

"So…I know I promised David that I wouldn't watch the videos until he gives me explicit permission to do so, and I don't intend to break that promise; but, I _know_ things have been going really badly for David lately and I think he might be depressed. I'd like to know what you think. Should I be worried about David?"

Wolf thought that over. He knew the answer, but he didn't _want_ Kurt to be worried. But on the other hand…if anything bad happened to Human, bad things would happen to Wolf. Wolf nodded to his mate.

**xoxoxo**

**Next chapter will be much better, I promise.  
**


	34. Dalton

David's book bag knocked against the side of his knee and calf as he walked down the halls afterschool, holding his book bag by the strap along the top. It had been a long day: a long week. His depressed mood was exaggerating his exhaustion, but he felt as though he didn't have the energy to lift his bag onto his back. The previous day, he'd left school at the final bell to find all of the windows smashed out of his truck. His insurance was going to cover all of the damage, but it was the _intent_ behind the vandalism that got to him. And the hassle of it all.

He'd left his truck sitting in the Hummel-Hudson driveway that morning so that the glass guy could come and fix it sometime during the day. Finn had driven him to school that morning and they were set to meet up at the front of the school to go home. But when he got out to the parking lot, Finn was nowhere to be seen.

"Kurt, what are you doing here?" Kurt had his SUV idling in front of the school. David felt nervous about Kurt being here, especially once he noticed Alex standing in his car seat in the back, his front paws balanced on the window sill, barking through the glass at his other daddy. David's only comfort was the fact that Kurt had left the vehicle running, so he could make a quick getaway if anyone with nefarious motives approached them.

Kurt didn't look at all like he was worried about the people that had been harassing David (i.e., just about everyone) since school had gotten back from Christmas break. He had his "driving sunglasses" on and smiled largely at David through the rolled down window. "I thought the three of us could go out and have a special afternoon, together."

Pulling open the passenger side door and climbing into the seat beside Kurt, David didn't take his eyes off his boyfriend, his look of suspicion and confusion obvious. "What did you have in mind?"

xoxoxo

It had been a long drive, made longer by the whole "not-knowing" aspect of it. Any boredom David may have suffered from on the drive had been alleviated by his boyfriend and son. The three of them (Alex to a much lesser degree) had sung along with the radio as they travelled down the long stretches of highway. David had never been very "current" when it came to music, often learning the names of popular songs or artists two years after they had fallen out of vogue, but joining glee had changed all of that. David now not only recognized all of the songs that came on the radio, but knew enough of the lyrics to sing along and duet with Kurt while his son howled or barked along rhythmically in the back seat.

Alex's favorite song seemed to be "Firework;" he positively freaked out when he heard the opening strains. David listened along, chuckling, while Kurt sang and Alex yipped. Alex seemed to actually have some understanding of the song as he barked along in perfect sync every time Katy Perry (and Kurt) sang "boom, boom, boom" or "moon, moon, moon." David continued chuckling even after the song had ended. "I can't believe you let him listen to _that_."

"What's wrong with Katy Perry?"

"You know what that song is about, don't you?" David leaned his elbow against the window, balancing his cheek on his fist. Kurt pulled his eyes off the road long enough to shoot David a bewildered look. "It's about _s-e-x_."

"No, it's not. It's about recognizing your inner strength and being as strong as you can."

"Think about it; what, _other_ than fireworks, 'streaks' across the sky? While you're saying "ung, ung, ung?"

"_Stop being perverted_!" Kurt reached across the stick shift to smack David on the thigh. "It's not "ung, ung, ung" it's "oh, oh, oh."

"Tell that to Katy Perry, because that sure as _hell_ isn't what she's saying. It's about _o-r-g-a-s-m-s_"

"Smartass." Kurt started pulling the vehicle over towards the exit and David finally realized where they were headed as he saw the sign just before the off ramp. Westerville. They were headed to Dalton Academy.

xoxoxo

It looked more like some millionaire's estate than an all-boys' boarding school. It had a long, winding driveway leading through a brick arch that brought you to the front of the grand, brick façade; it looked like something out of a Jane Austen novel. Teenage boys and middle-aged and older professors wandered about the perfectly manicured lawns, all dressed to the nines is heavily starched suits and uniforms. There was a three tiered water fountain on the front lawn, with the plumbing shut off for the winter months; two boys sat on the side of the lower fountain, one holding up index cards, while the other scrunched up his face and tried to fish through his memories for the proper response.

Kurt continued following the car path as it curved around the left side of the building and off through a heavy grove of bare trees. Once they had passed through the thick, brown, brush the trees parted to reveal a large, gravel parking lot, filled with shiny vehicles that screamed _wealth, privilege, opulence. _He wasn't an expert on cars – not like Kurt and his father – but he was more than certain that he saw an Aston Martin.

Kurt parked alongside a vehicle that made Kurt's $35,000 SUV look like a secondhand Tonka truck.

They exited and collected Alex from the back seat. Kurt didn't put a leash on Alex and instead trusted Alex to stick with them. Alex, still slightly nervous about being outside on his own after getting lost a month ago, stayed tight against his daddy's side, nearly tripping Kurt several times as he got underfoot while they walked to the front entrance of the school – which Kurt insisted on calling the foyer (Kurt pronounced it "foy-ay").

Once they were inside the warm and sheltered building, Alex got a bit more adventurous, straying from his daddies' sides to sniff at the floor, the walls, paintings, banisters and anything else close enough to the ground for him to reach. David looked around and was slightly disturbed to see a moderate lack of adults. "Isn't this supposed to be, like, a super-safe place? Where's security?"

"Oh, don't worry. They're around. Just because you don't see them, doesn't mean they don't see you." Kurt nodded towards a corner where the wall met the ceiling. After a minute of straining his eyes, David saw the slight reflection of something no larger than a marble – a hidden camera recessed into the wall. Kurt continued leading David through the building: up a staircase, down a hall, up another staircase, down another hall, down a staircase. The building was deceptively large on the inside. _Dr. Who must be the headmaster_, David mused to himself. At long last, Kurt led David into the library, through the stacks of books, and into a small chamber off of the library, filled with chairs and still more books. Perhaps two-dozen teenage boys of various ages, appearances, and nationalities sat chatting with each other in the chairs. When Kurt and David entered, Alex in tow, the chatting died down. No one seemed shocked by their former classmate's sudden appearance. They had been expecting them.

Alex pushed between David's legs and charged at Blaine, nearly winding him as he jumped into Blaine's lap, his front paws landing squarely against Blaine's solar plexus. "Oooph! Nice to see you too, buddy. Kurt, David, it's nice to see you two. I'm so glad you decided to bring him." Blaine glanced towards David as he spoke to Kurt; David couldn't fathom _why_ Blaine would _ever_ be happy to see him.

"Take a seat, Dave." Dave straddled a plastic school chair backwards, as he saw some of the other boys doing. Kurt sat down beside David, his back straight and his legs crossed delicately at the ankles, with his hands folded in his lap.

"So…why am I here?" David looked throughout the room, searching each boy's face for some kind of answer. One of the boys, though, drew David's attention. He was the most unfortunately _ugly_ looking person David had ever seen. His forehead was large and sloped with his hairline recessed; his ears were huge and set back far on the sides of his head. His skin had a sickening grey tinge to it and he had disgustingly porous skin with harsh wrinkles across his forehead, along the sides of his eyes, and beside his pushed up, pug-nose. David's first instinct was that the boy had some kind of birth defect, or genetic disorder. But it occurred to him that he'd seen similar characteristics on people before: but only ever in movies or online.

The boy was a gargoyle: an unhuman of incredible strength, endurance, and, surprisingly, pacifistic ways. They were better off than most unhumans; there had never really been any great purge against them. They had quickly sided with the church sometime during the early centuries of Christianity and had soon after been adopted as protectors and guardians by churches, monasteries, and cathedrals. The church had called them demons and used them as living examples of how it was never too late to seek god's love, guidance and forgiveness. They were among the only unhumans the church had ever _considered_ accepting. Mostly because the church, in its early days, had needed the illusion of protection that the gargoyles had offered against Vikings, Visigoths, Huns, and other hoards of roaming barbarians.

This boy was a gargoyle. Blaine was a vampire. The boys no doubt knew David and Alex were werewolves. And yet, no one cast weary glances, or surreptitiously scooted chairs away to safer distances. David felt something heavy grow in his chest. He wasn't sure if it were fear, anxiety, or a desire of some kind. He had no words for this kind of feeling, but he knew it came from a sense of realization. "Are you _all_ unhumans?"

A few of the boys chuckled; Kurt smiled; a few others looked about the room. "Trent isn't."

"I thought you could use a bit of a support group…people who know what you're going through. People who have been there, before." Kurt reached his hand over to David and gripped David's hand with his own, giving it a warm, affectionate squeeze.

"A private school for unhumans." David said it with a sense of awe (and tinge of fear, if truth be told). "How is such a thing _possible_? How are police not storming down the halls every week?"

Kurt and Blaine shared a smile between themselves, remembering how Kurt had initially confused Dalton as a school for homosexuals.

Trent was the one to respond, however. "Dalton isn't a school _for_ unhumans. It simply _accepts_ them. Dalton was founded in 1942. Given that it was an expensive preparatory school for boys and focused on the skills you would need to be economic and political leaders in the country, it had a de facto segregation policy. A de jure segregation policy wasn't necessary; minorities generally couldn't afford to send their children here and usually had no reason to _try_. Because of that, it gradually became a place of moderate acceptance.

"In 1957, when Little Rock integrated Central High School, out of solidarity, a few board members and alumni sponsored several local black boys to attend the school – though they weren't allowed to board here. Over the next few years, wealthy minority families from across the country began sending boys here in such increasing numbers that the school re-designated one of the dorms as being for minority students.

"You can imagine that, when a policy of toleration quickly morphs into a policy of _welcome_, tensions will build. There was a vocal group of students and staff that wanted the minority students to leave the school. They would harass them. Out of those dark times, Dalton Academy's zero-tolerance bullying policy was formed. It was one of the first such policies at a school in the country. Unfortunately for them, but lucky for us, the policy was so _broad_ that it was all encompassing. It protected _all_ students.

"In 1971, it was discovered that one of the students was an unhuman. This created a whole new set of problems in the school. The board of directors was divided on the situation and almost half of the board ended up resigning in protestation. Parents began ripping their students out of the school by the dozens. Those students were quickly replaced though by the parents of unhumans who, until then, _had_ no safe place to send their children. Eventually, the school settled down again, and since the late seventies, Dalton has been completely accepting of _all_ students, no matter their nationality, race, religion, sexual orientation, or subspecies."

"So long as they're a dude." Opined one of the other boys, prompting a smattering of soft laughs.

"What…_are_ all of you?" David scanned the room, he had never seen so many unhumans in his _life_, let alone all at once.

Different boys began piping up, some speaking over each other, than politely backing down with "You first." "No _you_ first." All told, there was a gargoyle, several vampires (including Blaine), a fairy, a nymph, twin selkies, a few different types of wizards and warlocks, a few elves, a djinn and a tennin. Trent wasn't an unhuman, but was the school's unofficial historian, so he'd been asked to attend this little meeting. A boy who was practically fighting with Alex to sit in Blaine's lap was the last to speak. "I'm Sebastian. I'm an incubus."

David knew that name…not so much the subspecies – though he _had_ heard of it before, but he definitely knew the name. "You're Blaine's boyfriend? The one that likes to get bit?" David tried to mask the malice in his voice. He couldn't understand how _anyone_ could abide an unhuman _feeding_ off of them and frankly, the thought disgusted him. Everyone else in the room seemed rather amused by the idea, though.

"Blaine, dear, have you been kissing and telling?" Sebastian was practically purring in Blaine's ear, as he ran his fingers through Blaine's overly gelled hair.

Blaine blushed a crimson red, something David hadn't known vampires could do. To alleviate Blaine's discomfort, David altered the subject. "What's an incubus?"

"It's the ultimate sexual predator. Everything about us is completely indistinguishable from humans, except for one teensy-tiny, little thing: we feed off people's life forces, which we can only get through sex." Blaine blushed even redder, if that was possible.

"Isn't that…I dunno, _lethal_?"

Sebastian shrugged. "Generally speaking, if you keep screwing the same person. Most incubi and succubae are hardcore whores, as a result. After sexing up Blaine, though…we discovered he had none of the usual side-affects of having sex with one of my kind. After doing some research, we discovered the reason; vampires _have_ no life force. Not really; that's part of what _makes_ them vampires. I can still _feed_ from Blaine though. The blood that Blaine consumes has it's _own_ life force – from whoever it initially came from. Blaine doesn't need that life force; he just needs the blood, itself, since his body can't produce blood. He feeds; he gets the blood he needs; we have sex; I get the life force I need. It all works out rather beautifully."

"That's pretty fucked up."

Blaine pursed his lips indignantly. "Would you rather he sleep around and drain a small amount of life force from _lots_ of people?"

David set his jaw. He wasn't pleased with their arrangement, but it was none of his business. "How the hell does the community put up with this? They _have _to know that one of the largest concentrations of different species unhumans in the country is living right under their nose?"

One of the boys, a nymph named Jeff, cocked his head to his shoulder and then righted it: a quick, one-sided shrug. "We've been here for decades. Those that are pissed about it have long since moved away. Those that mind won't move near here to begin with. We keep to ourselves and they usually forget we're even here."

"But vampires, and an incubus, and a djinn…you guys could do _so_ much damage with so little effort. That doesn't bother anyone?"

"I'm sure it does, but we take responsibility for our actions. We aren't defined by what we are; we are defined by what we _do_." If David recalled names correctly, it was the fairy, Jesse, which was speaking. "Rashid, if someone got a hand on his ring, could easily destroy half the country with one well thought out wish by the person who had the ring. He knows that; we all know that; the whole community knows that. So he keeps his ring safe, where no one can get a hand on it.

"Blaine, Justin, and Desmond are predators who could easily hurt or kill people…hell, it's part of what they _are_. But they _know_ that and they take responsibility for what they do; they don't feed off of humans and they consume _only_ blood that had been _willingly_ donated. That's the only way we can get the community to accept us; we take responsibility for who and _what_ we are and more importantly, what we _do_."

xoxoxo

Kurt, David, and Alex spent a good deal of the afternoon with the Dalton Academy unhumans. They all talked about their own experiences as unhumans, how they had dealt with conflict, where they had found support over the years: including a great deal of websites designed for unhumans, and some fictional literature written by, for, or about unhumans.

David even made some tentative friendships. A few even asked to Facebook him before the end of the night, but David had to inform them that he had been forced to shut down his Facebook page due to the harassment at school.

The drive home was calm and quiet. Alex was passed out in his car seat, being completely drained from all the excitement. David was quiet as well, though he wasn't tired. His mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to organize everything he had learned that day.

One thing kept playing in repeat in his mind. _We aren't defined by what we are; we are defined by what we do._

xoxoxo

When they arrived home the previous night, David was pleasantly surprised to find not only his truck windows completely replaced, but the vehicle vacuumed out as well. That was a nice bonus from the glass company, seeing as he needed to chauffeur himself in the morning.

It now _was_ the morning and he was out of the house and on his way for the day. He wasn't headed to school, though. No, he had other plans. He pulled up to a large, low concrete building, proudly displaying the words _Lima Police Department_ recessed into the edifice. As he entered through the glass front door, it occurred to him that he'd never been in the police department, before. Even when they had been investigating his mother's murder, the police had always come to _him_ to talk. He'd never been brought here. The actual offices were completely cut-off from the front entrance by a concrete counter that was an actual _part_ of the building and what had to be bulletproof glass extending from the top of the counter to the ceiling. There was a glass door at the other end of the counter that had a keypad entry system.

At this hour of the morning, there wasn't a whole lot of activity. David was the only civilian he could see in the building. David approached the front counter and the only officer stationed there: a young Hispanic male, typing away on a computer that David could barely behind the partition. "Can I help you?"

David swallowed heavily, blinking rapidly in his nervousness. "Yeah. I'd like to report a crime?" The officer peeled his eyes away from his typing and looked up at David. "I killed a man."


	35. Murderer

**midnight141 – I've been planning on doing a one-shot Seblaine tied into the epilogue of this. Hopefully, I'll be able to write it in such a way that it can stand alone.**

**aunthay – Moo Cow was created as an amalgamation of my two cats; Moo for my baby boy, Cluie and Cow for my little girl, Piglet. Cluie was sadly diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a few days after the first Moo Cow chapter was posted. He had to be put down two weeks later. I'm glad you enjoy Moo Cow so much; the real Moo was my best friend and had been for eleven years.**

**xoxoxo**

"I don't get it, why would he say something like that? Wolf's a _puppy_. He's more of a puppy than _Alex_ half the time! He'd never hurt a _fly_!" Kurt, Burt, Carol, Finn, Paul and Alex were all in the living room of the Hummel-Hudson household. David had used his "one call" to get in touch with his father; he knew his father would need to ask less questions than Kurt or anyone else. He was also afraid of the judgment, anger, or disappointment he was sure to hear in Kurt's voice. Paul had contacted each of the Hummels and told them to meet him at their house.

Once they were all there, sans David, Paul had broken the news to them. David had turned himself in at the police station, confessing to murder. Kurt had immediately started freaking out, not giving Paul a chance to explain. Paul, used to David's occasional rants, sat quietly, waiting for Kurt to run out of things to say so Paul could input. "The worst I have _ever_ seen Wolf was when he found out I was dating David. He threw a little hissy-fit. That's it. He didn't hurt anyone and he kind of had _justification_ to be pissed. Why would he hurt someone?" Alex sat in Burt's lap, whimpering softly at his father's anger. The pup knew something was wrong, but wasn't sure what. Kurt, hearing the quiet sound of anguish from his son, scooped him up and cradled him close to his chest, having to shift him frequently to keep his grip on him; the five-month-old was nearing twenty pounds.

As Kurt soothed his son, Paul spoke up. "The first time David changed, we were still in complete denial. We had no idea what to expect. We hoped if we pushed it out of our minds, nothing would happen. And we couldn't exactly go online and look up what to expect. The Patriot Act was in full swing at that time; you never knew where or when you were being monitored by the Feds. When David first changed, he was terrified. He remembers everything that happened that night, but he had no control over himself. The wolf acted exactly as you'd expect a wild animal trapped inside to act; he threw himself against the walls and doors, ran into things in his blind panic. I wasn't afraid for myself; but I was terrified he'd hurt himself. I let him outside. He ran off. Around dawn, I went outside to search for him. I found him just as the sun was starting to come up. He was covered in blood. He told me he had _eaten_ someone."

"And you never _told_ anyone?!" Finn jumped up, startling Alex (and Moo Cow who had been wedged in between Carol and Finn on the couch). "Someone is _dead_ because of David and you continued to let him go outside on the full moon? What the hell were you thinking?"

Paul had never _stopped_ feeling guilty about that decision, but he didn't need Finn to remind him of how ashamed he should be. Even still, he kept his calm. "David had no control over what happened, why should he suffer for something that wasn't his fault? My wife was the fifteenth person killed by the werewolf that bit David. He was still at large. He bit David; _he's_ the reason David killed that man. As far as I'm concerned, that man's death is the first werewolf's fault. He should be the one to pay for the murder; not David. As for Wolf still being allowed outside – the first time that David changed, he went insane with confusion and fear. After that…the wolf was calm so long as it could be outside. He never came home with any sign of having hurt anyone. No other people went missing. Yes, I feared for a long time that he would do something bad; but, like Kurt, I've come to trust Wolf. He isn't violent."

xoxoxo

He didn't belong here. This was the complete _opposite_ of where a fashionable, sensible, intelligent boy like Kurt should be. Yet, here he was, getting escorted by an armed guard to a visitation area. The prison was everything you were trained by pop culture to expect of one; it was largely concrete, brick, and other dingy materials that seemed to _absorb_ the dull, industrial lighting. Much of what should have been white in the building had turned to a drab grey or dirty yellow. Graffiti was apparent on some of the walls, either poorly covered up or simply left alone. If this was how "lovely" they kept the public section of the Ohio State Penitentiary, Kurt could only imagine how gross and dank the inmate section of the prison must be.

The officer – whose name Kurt didn't quite catch – temporarily completed his job as escort and left Kurt sitting in a small cubicle that faced a counter and glass window. That's as close as he'd be able to get to David; they could sit merely two feet from each other, but wouldn't be able to touch in anyway shape or form. It was kind of painful to be able to get so close to his love, without going all the way.

It took what felt like an eternity, but at long last, a door on the other side of the glass opened and an armed guard entered into the room. He was dressed differently than the other guards Kurt had seen. The other guards looked like typical cops: cops that might pull you over and give you a speeding ticket, or control the crowds at a high school football game. This particular guard was dressed like S.W.A.T. He carried a rifle of some kind – an assault rifle if the pictures that often accompanied sensationalist news stories about shootings were to be believed. To compliment his rifle, he wore the full face-shield Kurt usually only saw on police during riots. His black clothes were heavy and thickly woven, probably meant to act as body armor in addition to the large bulletproof vest he wore over his regular uniform. The patches adorning his uniform were different as well. The red cross of St. George was sewn to his shoulders.

He was a slayer.

Not a Federal Slayer, but a state one. The uniform of a Federal Slayer was almost iconic, they were featured in so many movies about monsters, terrorists, and psychopaths. Federal Slayers wore black, from head to toe. Their typical wear was a black suit, with black shirt, and black tie; the only color in their uniform came from the red cross and white background on the shield that symbolized their profession. Their "combat attire" was black and grey camouflage mixed with differing shades of dark green and brown. It was intended for hunting unhumans through Red Zones in the dark of night, though they still wore it even if their target was running lose in an urban area or the middle of a desert.

David followed just behind him, and another slayer came in behind David. Kurt wanted to jump up at the sight of David, but was afraid that moving quickly around so many heavily armed, carefully trained officers would be a foolish idea.

David appeared pale and sickly. His eyes were drooping with heavy bags beneath them. He obviously hadn't been sleeping well. He shuffled along slowly between the two guards, and not only because his ankles were shackled together; he seemed to have much of the life drained from him. Kurt absently wondered if he'd picked a fight with a vampire – David still didn't care for vampires, even as his opinions on werewolves gradually changed. The shackles that bound David's ankles together were connected to a second chain that ran up to his waist and connected to a large chain about his waist. From there, the chain travelled up his torso and connected to a second set of shackles that bound his wrists together.

David looked like he was on death row.

David sat down slowly in front of Kurt, but didn't dare look at him. He was so ashamed. Kurt choked back a sob seeing the father of his baby look like this. "Orange doesn't look good on _anyone_. Them making you wear that…it's almost a crime, itself." Kurt tried to force out a laugh, but it caught in his throat, like a heavy lump. "I can't believe they put you in _Youngstown_. It's…it's a ridiculously long drive. Three and a half hours…traffic wasn't too bad though. I tried to listen to an audio book – _Alice in Wonderland_ – but after the hundredth time she decided to eat any random food she found lying around, I couldn't take it anymore." Despite the obvious nervousness that leaked out in Kurt's halting words, the forced nonchalance of Kurt's talking soothed David's fear enough for him to look up at Kurt, all his pain, regret, and sadness shining in his eyes. "Is it like in the movies? I used to watch _Oz_ every now and then…it's not like that, is it? Or _Shawshank Redemption?_"

"I…I don't know. They don't…" David looked over his shoulder at the two guards that had accompanied him. They kept their rifles up and diagonal across their chests; they would only have to swivel slightly to train the sights on David, if necessary. "I'm not in the 'general population.' They moved me here because most jails…_most prisons _aren't equipped to secure a supernaturally strong unhuman. These shackles," David held his hands up, as though Kurt hadn't already seen the shackles. "They're made of something called 'maraging steel'. They're strong enough to hold just about any kind of unhuman. They have me in a special cell…like solitary, kind of, that's also super-strong. I don't know what it's made of, though. Burt and Ernie, behind me," David nodded his chin over his shoulder, indicating the two guards, "they bring me my food. This is the first time I've left my cell since I got here two days ago."

"This is ridiculous. They could have kept you closer to home until the full moon. That would have given us another week, together, near home. _You_ aren't strong enough to break metal. Only during the full moon."

"Some werewolves can change anytime they want."

"Not _you,_ though."

"Yeah, Kurt, there are some professions – military, TSA, prison guard, lawyer, judge – where you just _don't_ take people's word for it. I…I can't be angry at them for treating me like this. I deserve it."

Kurt frantically shook his head. "No…no you don't. You shouldn't…you shouldn't have even _said_ anything." Kurt's voice raised and cracked slightly in his anger. His eyes were starting to look red; they always did that just before he started crying.

David was somewhat shocked at Kurt's statement. He had expected Kurt to be angry at him for _killing_ someone, not for _turning himself_ _in_. "I _had_ to. I _murdered_ someone Kurt. His family probably has no idea whatever happened to him. I have to give them closure and face whatever justice the government deems necessary."

Kurt was starting to get _pissed_; there were so many things he just wanted to _scream_ at David. "_His_ family? What about _your_ family? His family has dealt with him being gone for eight years. How is _you_ going to prison going to help anyone? And justice my ass! You're an unhuman. The government isn't going to want _justice_; they're going to want _blood_."

"I took someone's life, Kurt. His family has to know what happened to him. They have to know where he's been the past eight years."

"Well, you don't have to worry about Alex questioning where _you_ are, because he'll know _exactly_ where you are for the next twenty years to life… _if_ you don't get the death penalty." Kurt snorted indignantly and said, more to himself, than to David, "There isn't a state in the union, or country in the _world_ that has taken the death penalty off the plate for unhumans."

"Kurt…I love you, but I had to do what was _right_. I've spent half my life hating unhumans, thinking all of them villainous murderers and rapists and sociopaths. If I didn't turn myself in, for what _I_ did – after all, you're always trying to convince me that I _am_ Wolf, and we don't just happen to share the same body – then I'd be proving my suspicions about unhumans correct, at least as far as I'm concerned."

Kurt shook his head mournfully, trying to accept the fact that after _finally_ getting Alex's father in the picture fulltime, he was losing him for good. "This wasn't the right thing to do David. You aren't _helping_ anyone. You can't do anything to bring him back. All you've done is commit murder again…only this time, you're murdering _yourself_."


	36. Between the Trees

They had him in a moderately sized, empty room, with only a table, the chair he sat on and a chair opposite himself. The guards had sat him down facing the room's one door before exiting, but not before one of them, the shorter one, made certain to inform him they would be just outside the door, and their ammunition was silver-tipped bullets. David had to bite back his reply of sardonic reply of "Love you, too."

The lonely little clock on the otherwise empty wall ticked away the seconds mournfully: depressingly reminding David of each additional moment of his life that he was wasting behind bars. Eventually though, the door opened and a most unwelcome face entered the room. Whittaker came in, two cups of coffee – Starbucks – in hand. "Coffee?"

David wanted to rebuff his offering like a pouty little child, but he'd gone too long without caffeine and his head was screaming at him angrily, because of it. He had to grip the cup with two hands as he lifted it to his lips; it was easier that way with his wrists chained together.

"Was it _really_ that hard to pick up a phone and give me a call? Now look at the shit you've dug yourself in." David didn't respond; he hoped his glare said all that he thought about what Whittaker had to say. "You know...I _knew_ it the moment I first saw you. I've been watching you – monitoring you – for years, just _waiting_ for you to confirm my suspicions. I was starting to think I'd gone insane, that I'd lost my gift for 'sniffing out' unhumans. I was right, though. I don't know how you and your father were able to keep it quiet for so long – werewolves often go insane and do something ridiculously stupid, like commit suicide – but you and your dad were able to keep the entire thing hush-hush. Perhaps someday when you're not too busy trying to get my head to explode via telepathy, you'd care to tell me just _how_ you and your father were able to deal with this all on your own. I'd especially like to know how a _ten-year-old_ was able to cover up a murder so well that we don't even know _who the hell_ you killed or _where_. Did your dad help you cover it up?"

"Fuck you, you leave my dad out of this."

"So that's a 'yes'?"

"My dad is innocent. _I_ killed the man. _I_ covered it up. My dad had nothing to do with _any_ of this."

Whittaker picked up his coffee and sipped it, calm as though he were out to Sunday lunch with an old friend or colleague. "Perhaps not – though I doubt it – but he _did_ know about it and kept quiet about it. That's accessory after the fact. He'll go to jail too, probably."

David could hear the unspoken word at the end of Whittaker's sentence, and supplied it himself, "Unless?"

Licking his lips and putting his cup back down, Whittaker responded, "You help me. You play along, nicely, like you were doing before I got here. I get that you don't like me, David. I failed to get the guy who did this to you…the guy who killed your mother. But I feel partially responsible for what happened. I _knew_ you were a werewolf, but I wanted some kind of _proof_ before I voiced my beliefs. Perhaps if I had said something to someone, we would have been able to stop you before anything even happened. Who knows? Anyway, this is _my_ case now. You are _my_ responsibility."

David had turned himself in. He _wanted_ to do the right thing. Being stubborn with Whittaker just because he disliked – and _feared_ – the man, wouldn't make anything better. He'd have to play by Whittaker's rules if he wanted to survive this. "What do you want me to do?"

xoxoxo

Whittaker had grilled him for hours about everything he could remember that night, everything he'd seen, heard, smelled, felt, _tasted_ until Whittaker was pretty certain they'd be able to find the approximate location of the crime. David was chained up in the back of an armored truck, seated on a bench that ran along one side of the truck. Two Federal Slayers drove the truck, both of them decked out in their combat fatigues and armed to the tooth. Two more guards – his regular guards, Burt and Ernie – accompanied him in the back wearing their state issued combat gear. Whittaker sat across from David, wearing his crisp, clean suit. The ride was quiet, though occasionally one of the guards' walkie-talkies would crackle to life with speech. Mostly it was ten-minute check-ups to make sure David hadn't Wolfed-out and eaten anyone, but occasionally there was other radio-chatter: enough, that David could tell that their truck was being accompanied by several others.

It was the first day of the full moon. Whittaker had narrowed down the scene of the crime pretty drastically, but they'd still need Wolf to lead them to the exact site. David prayed Wolf cooperated with them. He had no doubt that Wolf would freak out initially, but Whittaker had promised David that Wolf would only be taken down as an absolute _last_ resort.

As the evening approached, he could start to feel the tension building up inside, as though Wolf were trying to scratch his way out of David's body. He had felt the faint shadow of Wolf lately, more than usual. Wolf probably knew that David was caged; occasionally their emotions leaked through, one to the other. Wolf wouldn't be pleased to find out he was going to spend a good long time caged up.

The day was slowly dying into night; the prison guards got visibly tenser as the sun began to set. Despite being slayers, David doubted either of them had ever encountered a werewolf before. Werewolves were native to central Europe and very few had been able to survive World War Two. The Holocaust had not been kind to unhumans, but werewolves had faired the worst. The bulk of their population had been located in Germany, Poland, Austria, western Russia, Czechoslovakia, and France, making them easy pickings. Not only that, but most subspecies were fairly passive and peaceful, making it easier for regular humans sympathize with them and try to protect them, much as the Danes had done with Jews. Vampires had "charming" abilities, making it easier for them manipulate humans into letting them survive. Werewolves were just scary. And on top of their frightful reputation and appearance, they were prone to severe psychological disorders given the stress the phases of the moon put on their minds and bodies. Whittaker hadn't been exaggerating when he said werewolves often committed suicide.

Whittaker knew werewolves. He'd even worked with a few over the years. Perhaps that was part of the reason he appeared so calm even as David started to panic.

xoxoxo

Whittaker could tell the change was coming. David had gone stiff and was fighting it. How cute; the boy thought he could stop the change by _willing_ it away. Whittaker had worked with unhumans long enough to know David could only control the wolf and the change if he not only accepted it, but _embraced_ it.

The guards lent to him by the prison exited the back of the truck; in a close quarter confrontation, they stood no chance against an angry werewolf. Their only hope was if they had enough distance between themselves and the werewolf that they could fire off a round or two before the werewolf got to them. Assuming, that is, that the werewolf was a threat at all.

Whittaker sat patiently and waited for the change to complete. It looked painful; Whittaker was glad _he_ wasn't a werewolf.

When David had been replaced by two hundred and fifty pounds of fur, Whittaker looked over at the two state slayers and held his hand up, silently telling them to hold their fire. He didn't particularly trust state slayers; they were usually more trigger-happy than prudent, and he wasn't entirely sure he could rely on the dozen Feds that now flanked the truck to stop the two yokels from doing something stupid.

The werewolf uncurled from the fetal position and slowly surveyed his surroundings. He was no doubt shocked and confused. His eyes had slowly swept over the inside of the truck, but began flicking erratically over everything as panic began to set in. "Wolf…that's what you call yourself, correct? My name is Agent Whittaker." Wolf's fur was bristled and his ears flicked about as swiftly as his pupils. "David turned himself in for the murder he committed some years ago. I'm hoping you can help us find the body."

Wolf had spotted the fourteen agents and officers with their guns and rifles trained on him. He tensed and froze, before slowly backing into the rear corner of the truck. Whittaker got down on the floor, kneeling in front of Wolf so that he was between him and the mini-cavalry his superiors had insisted he bring along. "It's ok. I've promised David and now I'm promising you: no one is going to hurt you _if_ you cooperate. All I'm asking of you is that you show us _where_ you killed that man." Wolf darted his eyes between Whittaker and the men behind Whittaker several times, before fixing his gaze on Whittaker and slowly nodding.

xoxoxo

In hindsight, though he _loved_ the image his regular uniform conveyed, a full suit might not have been the best idea when it could easily have been predicted that he'd be spending half the night hiking.

The wolf went just slow enough for the slayers that none felt inclined to raise their weapons. Wolf became calm and collected once he was certain none of the men were going to shoot him. He was quite possibly calmer than his human counterpart.

He didn't seem the type to kill, which was confusing Whittaker.

Once he had made the judgment that David was a werewolf, Whittaker made certain to keep an eye on the boy. He knew what grades David had received each semester, he knew David's SAT scores, he knew David's ASVAB score, he knew within a day when David had been expelled and he had seen every incident that warranted a spot on his permanent record. David was active in school organizations and bordered on being a genius, yet he had an anti-social tendency and negative attitude that was very apparent based on his permanent record. _That_ type of person Whittaker could see as potentially being a murderer, but the teenager he had spent the better part of the week talking to and this werewolf…neither of them seemed like murderers.

Wolf came to an abrupt stop, his tail drooping, and looked over his shoulder at his followers before turning around. "Is this it?" Wolf stood and turned back around and slowly walked through the trees. The slayers all followed along, with Whittaker at the head. Pushing through the trees, Whittaker realized _most_ of the brush wasn't real. It was a ground blind, built similarly to a ghillie suit. He tentatively moved past the camouflage and stepped into a decent sized clearing with more ground blind strung up in the treetops to prevent anyone flying overhead from seeing the open area. Corrugated aluminum sheets lay in disarray in the center of the clearing. It was obviously a tiny shed of some kind that had been destroyed long ago. Wolf was sniffing at it and pawing at one of the bent sheets, but Whittaker wasn't interested in that. Not right now anyway. "_Holy…_" Whittaker had lost his faith in god long ago; how could he believe in god or heaven or hell when he knew firsthand they didn't exist? Even still, he resisted the urge to drop to his knees and pray.

Instead, he pointed where he was standing, "Here." One of the Federal Slayers, a member of the Evidence Response Team Unit, came up and placed a yellow placard with the letter "A" on it. Whittaker began walking a loop around the perimeter of the clearing, stopping every few feet to tell the slayer to drop another placard. As Whittaker made consecutively smaller circles on each loop, he began to worry there wouldn't be enough placards.

xoxoxo

He was hungry and tired in the morning and he didn't know where he was. He wasn't back at the prison, as far as he could tell. The room he was in was very similar to the interrogation room at the other prison, but the walls were made of cheap concrete. David would have no issues busting out if he wanted to. Not that he wanted to. There was a McDonald's deluxe breakfast sitting for him on the table. Whittaker came in halfway through his meal. He had a pancake wedged in his cheek like a chipmunk when the agent came and sat down. "Last night was quite a bit longer than I expected it to be. I figured Wolf and I would lead the slayers to the scene of the crime, I'd let them get started, I'd hang out for a bit, then I'd get to call it a night. Fat chance. We were too exhausted in the morning to bother taking you back to Ohio State. We're in a local jail in Van Buren; we've set up office, here." David was quiet. Where was Whittaker going with this? "You confessed to murder, David. _A_ murder." David narrowed his eyes. He didn't like where Whittaker was going with this. "We've been exhuming bodies all night. They were on body number six when I left, though we _found_ at least two dozen."

David let out a shuddering breath; his chest clenched up. He thought his heart was going to implode. What the _fuck_ had that mangy mongrel been doing every full moon. "I…I-I-I swear to _god_ I had no idea. I-I'm so _sorry_." David placed his head down on the table and allowed himself to cry. Whether he was crying over the fact that he was now _certain_ to get the death penalty or if it was over all the lives he'd taken, even David couldn't say. It was just too overwhelming to put any kind of words to his feelings.

"Hear me out, David. Let me tell you what _I_ think happened. Eight years ago, over the course of a half-year period, fifteen people went missing; presumably killed by a werewolf. One of the victims was not alone. The werewolf left a witness. Even _worse_, he made that witness powerful: turned them into a werewolf. He probably didn't even realize he had 'turned' the witness; after all, it was such a _small_ bite. Come this _new_ werewolf's first full moon, all of his animal instincts kicked into high gear. Without even realizing what he was doing, he tracked down the monster that was endangering everyone and everything in his own home territory and killed him. The other werewolf, the serial killer, probably didn't even know what hit him. You were lucky you took him by surprise."

David sniffled and raised his head up just enough to look at the FBI agent watching him. "But," He sniffled again, "It was the full moon. I ate a _person…_not a_ werewolf_."

Whittaker shrugged and placed a lightly clenched fist on the table. "And it was a new moon when he bit you. This werewolf was a fairly powerful one. The phases of the moon meant nothing to him." Whittaker turned his fist so that it was finger-side up and slowly opened it. "The facts speak for themselves." In Whittaker's palm sat a small gold, diamond, and ruby ring: David's mother's engagement ring.


	37. Back

"So…so what's going to happen to me now?"

Whittaker sat back in his chair, just watching David watch him. Two days had passed, and Whittaker had come and gone frequently, keeping David apprised of the situation. A total of twenty-four bodies had been found, including the one David had personally added to the count. Whittaker dropped a manila envelope on the table in between himself and David. "I've been keeping the federal prosecutor in the loop. He's seen my reports and has been following the case closely. He believes it would be impossible to get a trial that any of us would be happy with. It'd be a waste of time and taxpayer's money and – truth be told – I'd like to get home to Quantico. I'm making an executive decision not to pursue this case any longer. As of this afternoon, you'll be free to go."

xoxoxo

He let the hot water pelt his face and chest and run down his skin, cleansing him and soothing him. He had been home three days and he was still adjusting. He hadn't returned to school, yet. He questioned whether he ever would. He'd barely gotten home before it was all over the news; two-dozen bodies had been uncovered in Van Buren State Park: two-dozen people that had been abducted and killed over the course of five years. Over half of them had been killed during those dark days eight years ago, but apparently the murderer been busy long before that. Thankfully, many of the victims had been easily identified by the contents of their wallets: credit cards, licenses, and other plastic pieces that hadn't decayed in the past decade.

Local news stations and papers had been trying to contact David since the story broke. Someone had let it leak that he had killed the serial killer. Whittaker promised him he'd find out who.

His family had also been trying to get in touch with him. This was the first any of them had heard of David being a werewolf. Paul and Burt screened his calls for him; some of his relatives wanted to tell him they still loved him…others wanted him to know he was no better than the creature that had taken their beloved Nancy from them.

Everything was just too overwhelming for him, right now.

His mother was finally _properly_ being laid to rest later that day and David was in the shower, still trying to wash away a week of incarceration and eight years of pain and shame. It wasn't working.

There was the slightest rustle of plastic and then David felt arms lace their way around his waist. He felt a forehead lean against his back. Turning into Kurt's embrace, David pulled his boyfriend close and rested his cheek against the top of Kurt's head. Kurt _shhh-ed_ him soothingly as he began to cry, his tears mingling with the shower water.

As difficult as life got for him sometimes, he'd always have Kurt there to take the pain away.

xoxoxo

His mother's casket was being suspended via pulley-system over the open grave. The Hummel-Hudson family had accompanied Paul and David, as expected, but a few of his other relatives showed up, as well.

"Davey-bear! Oh, my little Davey-Bear." His grandmother, Paul's mother, grabbed his face between her palms and pulled him into a stooped position so she could slather his face with kisses. "Oh, how I've missed you my Davey-bear!"

Blushing and fighting back tears of happiness, David pulled out of his grandmother's clutches. His grandfather stood beside her, dressed in a crisp-clean suit. "David." His grandfather held out his hand for a shake, but when David took his hand, his grandfather yanked his hand back, pulling David with it and pulling him into a tight hug. "It's good to see you again, David. The family's missed you." David looked around at the sparse gathering for his mother's funeral. Over half the family was missing. His grandfather made the same observation. "If they aren't here, they aren't family."

David smiled, his raised lips crimping the corners of his eyes and forcing back the tears. "I'd like you to meet my boyfriend and my son."

"Son? You have a _son_? I'm too young to be a great-grandmother! Let me see this little ragamuffin who thinks it's ok to make a young lady like myself feel so old." His grandmother pushed passed David, searching out any young child she could find. Honestly, given how old his father was when David's parents had married, his grandmother was just about overdue to be a great-grandmother.

Kurt, having overheard part of the conversation, came up to meet the elder Mr. and Mrs. Karofsky. Alex stayed with Burt. "Mr. and Mrs. Karofsky?"

"Grandma, grandpa, this is Kurt: my boyfriend – my son's dad."

Murray Karofsky held his hand out for Kurt. As he had with David, once his hand firmly grasped Kurt's, he jerked the boy into a hug. Minnie-Anne Karofsky wrapped her arms around her husband and grandson's boyfriend, joining in on the hug. Once the hug ended, Kurt patted his hip. "_Alex_!" Perking up at the sound of his father's summons, Alex leapt off Burt's lap and ran up to his two daddies. "Mr. and Mrs. Karofsky, this is David's and my son, Alex." Minnie and Murray exchanged a look of confusion. "Alex hasn't figured out how to change back and forth between human and werewolf."

Murray tentatively leaned down, extending his hand to his great-grandchild. Alex reared up on his hind legs to sniff at the hand offered to him. He was a bit leery about these new people, but licked at the hand, anyway.

xoxoxo

The pastor had finished saying his piece; it had been a lovely eulogy and Kurt could spot hardly a dry eye in the congregation of mourners. Even the slayers that Whittaker had ordered to stand guard over the funeral (there had been a few threats against David) fought to maintain their professional composure. People began lining up at the casket to say their final farewell before it was lowered, once and for all, into the ground. When David made no attempt to join the procession, Kurt squeezed his hand. "Are you going to say goodbye?"

David shook his head. "I said goodbye eight years ago to an empty box. _That's_ not my mother, either; I refuse to think of that fermenting shell as her. If there _is_ a heaven, she's been there for years now and has heard me talk to her over and over again. If there's no heaven…well, there's hardly any point, now, is there?"

"You're entitled to your opinion. But, if it's all right with you, I'd like to introduce her to Alex…even if she _isn't_ watching over us, right now." David nodded his assent and handed their son over. He watched as Kurt joined the line of people bidding their final farewells. Kurt even began talking to a gentleman in front of him in line: a cousin David only faintly recognized. After a few minutes of conversation that David couldn't make out, the man stepped aside and invited Kurt to take his place in line. A few more people followed his example and Kurt was shortly near the front.

David could sense a presence sit next to him. "I know this is hardly the time or place…but we've identified the serial killer."

"There's no better time than the present. Between you and me, I'd rather this all be over with. I've been through all of this before." David waved his hand at the scene surrounding him, indicating the funeral.

"He was a sales rep from a construction company just outside Columbus. His coworkers and neighbors were under the impression that he spent his weekends in Cincinnati. Apparently, that wasn't the case. A few of the victims have been identified as residents of counties as far away as Athens. It was only in the final few months of his killing spree that he began focusing on Allen county, Putnam and Hancock. He was an unregistered werewolf. A born one, judging by his DNA. No father to speak of –"

"His father was a werewolf?"

Whittaker shrugged. "Who knows? His mother died around fifteen years ago in a car accident, so we can't ask her. No siblings. No close family. No real 'friends.'"

"Why Lima?"

Whittaker didn't respond immediately. But when he did, it wasn't a satisfactory answer. "Why not? There's a great deal we'll probably never be able to understand. I know you didn't keep my business card, last time." Whittaker produced another small white card from his pocket. "I'd like you to give me a call when you feel ready. We have a lot to talk about."

David took his card and gave it only a cursory glance before shoving it in his pocket.

xoxoxo

As the alarm clock began beeping, Kurt squeezed David tighter, knowing, subconsciously, that he was about to lose the warmth his lover supplied. David gently rolled out of Kurt's grip and reset the alarm clock to wake Kurt in another half hour. "Where you going?"

David chewed his lip as he pulled off his sleep shirt. A week had passed since his mother's funeral. David had been in regular contact with several of the unhumans he had met at Dalton. He had needed all the support he could get since he got out of jail, and, as much as he deeply loved Kurt, sometimes Kurt just didn't understand. The Dalton unhumans knew what he was going through, to some extent. None of them had ever killed, but they knew what it was like to be driven by instincts they couldn't control. None of them had ever been to jail, though they all knew what it was like to be labeled as criminals because of what they were. Several of them, much like David, had taken to figuratively hiding in the shadows to avoid normal humans. David hadn't been to school since Kurt had picked him up to take him to Dalton, and David finally felt ready to go back.

Well, not ready, but he felt the time was right. If he kept avoiding the inevitable, he wouldn't ever get over his fear of his fellow classmates. Not only that, but he already risked failing his senior year. If he weren't able to graduate, he stood no chance in life; he'd never be able to provide for Kurt or Alex. Even the military had minimum standards for education.

"I'm going to school."

Kurt, no longer as asleep as he had been, sat up in bed, looking at David like a crazy person. "I didn't think you _were_ going back."

David avoided looking at Kurt as he pulled on a polo and pair of jeans. "I don't think I _was_ planning on going back to school. But I've got to."

"And if the other students start fights?" Kurt crawled down to the foot of the bed where David was sitting, pulling on a pair of socks.

"If they do…well, I've been beaten up pretty bad in hockey and football. I can take anything they can dish out. I'll just…_deal_."

"Please be careful David. No one will hold it against you if you can't do this."

David sighed. "_I'll_ hold it against me."

xoxoxo

The atmosphere at McKinley was different. The air felt thick with tension. Students watched him with wariness. Some of them followed his movements with narrowed, accusing eyes, others with the wide eyes of fear. Once he was spotted, students avoided turning their backs to him. They weren't even bothering to try and be discreet.

David tried to sit quietly at the rear of his classes; he hoped if he were out of sight, he'd be out of mind, but that didn't work out too well. Students didn't trust him where they couldn't see him and teachers wanted to be able to keep a close eye on him.

By third period, he was starting to _want_ to live up to their expectations of him. How much easier life must be for those who hold all men in contempt and don't care how they're perceived…

On his way to lunch, he was waylaid by none other than Noah Puckerman. "Dude, the entire school is _terrified_ of you. The school's about evenly split between those that hate you but are too big of pussies to mess with you, and those that kinda respect you for taking out the serial killer, but are freaked out you'll go all schizo on 'em."

David shook his head. "I'm not dangerous…neither is Wolf." The words came as a surprise to David. He'd never expected himself to stand up for Wolf, but, even as the words left his mouth, he knew them to be true. "We were a scared kid. We had no idea what we were doing. We just…_did_."

"_Dude_, it doesn't _matter_. Do you have any idea how hard most of us have to work for the kind of street cred you've got? You're like…king of the badasses!" David rolled his eyes. Puck had no idea what it was like to be truly feared. "So…are you still in glee? You've missed more practices than you've attended since you joined."

David shrugged. "Am I still wanted?"

"Dude. You're Kurt's baby-daddy. You were never _not_ wanted."

**xoxoxo**

**Sorry this chapter is so poor. It's kinda just filler. **


	38. First Check-up

**Moushkas:**

**I'm glad you're enjoying it! (That goes for all of you!)  
**

**I have no knowledge of Ohio beyond what I've Googled. I've had so many county maps of Ohio up on my computer in the past few weeks, you'd think I were running for public office or something. I don't end up using the vast majority of what I research, but I like to try to keep things **_**somewhat**_** realistic (and yet it's a story about werewolves; there goes the realism…).**

**Edit: for my Metric-unit readers: 23 lbs, 2 oz is roughly 10.49kg  
**

**xoxoxo**

"Alex Hummel?" A pretty little nurse in light blue scrubs with white flower prints poked her head out from the back room of the doctor's office. Paul Karofsky had been able to find a reputable doctor who specialized in unhumans. He was located nearly two hours from Lima, but the growing werepup needed a physician and it was probably about time David saw a doctor who understood the differences between werewolves and humans.

Kurt shouldered his messenger bag and placed Alex on the floor. Kurt, David and Alex followed after the nurse. The nurse led them to a pastel-yellow painted examination room. The nurse kneeled down beside Alex. "Hi, handsome." She slowly extended her hand to Alex, giving him an opportunity to smell her. "Do you mind being picked up?" She glanced up at Kurt and David, looking to them for the answer.

While David nodded, Kurt responded. "He loves being picked up. He's a cuddler."

"Up we go!" The nurse lifted Alex up onto a counter, placing him on one of the curved scales used to weigh babies. The nurse watched the scale settle on the correct weight, before making a notation in on her clipboard. "Twenty-three pounds, two ounces at five and a half months? You're gonna be a _little_ guy, aren't you?"

"Little?! According to a graph I found, he's in the 95th percentile for his age."

The nurse continued taking notes on her clipboard. "Ninety-fifth percentile for _human_ babies. Werewolves are always bigger than their human counterparts." Kurt couldn't argue that. David was always significantly larger when he was Wolf. "Ok, I'm going to go get Doctor Blanchard for the rest of the exam, all right?" Without waiting for an answer, the nurse stroked Alex's back and left the exam room.

Dr. Blanchard was prompt in returning. He was an older, yet sturdy, black man, with long dreadlocks tied behind his back. He introduced himself, shaking hands with David and then Kurt. "So, who are my patients? This little guy, of course." Dr. Blanchard rubbed Alex's muzzle, prompting Alex to open his mouth and start gnawing gently on the doctor's hand. The doctor took it in good stride, even going so far as to wrap his fingers around Alex's lower jaw and shake him back and forth, a little. Alex yipped happily at the doctor once he took his hand back.

"And this big guy." Kurt nudged David with his elbow.

Dr. Blanchard looked over the clipboard the nurse had been carrying around and checked some of the information. "All right, so Alex was born September 6th? That makes him…" Dr. Blanchard started counting off on his fingers. "September 6th to February 20th…he's about 24-25 weeks or so. Weight-wise he's a bit small. He's alert, bright-eyed, curious, and has a clear coat; that's all good." Dr. Blanchard pulled out an ear thermometer and waited patiently while it measured his temperature. "Temperature's good. Ears look clean, too." Blanchard placed one hand on top of Alex's muzzle and the other below. Using his thumbs, he pried Alex's lips apart, eliciting a small growl from Alex. "Teeth are clean; gums are a healthy pink. Alex is looking pretty good. How's his mental development? How much does he understand of what you say?"

Kurt thought that over. It was hard to condense his son's existence into a few sentences. "He's known a bunch of individual words and short phrases for months now; 'no,' 'yes,' 'come,' 'drop it,' different people's names, places, events, colors."

"Colors?" The doctor seemed pleasantly surprised by that. "Werewolf pups usually develop the ability to differentiate between colors _very_ slowly."

David smiled proudly at his son. "Kurt reads to him a lot, so he picks up a bunch of stuff."

The doctor nodded approvingly. "Excellent. Reading to your child is one of the best things you can do for them outside of the basics."

"I'm a little nervous, though. He still hasn't changed into a _human_ baby, yet. My werewolf baby book says he should start being able to change between four to five months. He's almost six months now."

Blanchard frowned and looked Alex over, massaging Alex's sides to feel for any abnormalities inside Alex. "Every baby develops differently. There's usually a window in which it's perfectly acceptable for a baby to develop certain abilities. Rolling over, sitting up, crawling, walking, talking…every baby develops at a different rate."

"Yeah, but there comes a time when the parents should start worrying that their baby isn't developing on time." Blanchard nodded. "When should we," Kurt gestured to himself and David, "start worrying?"

The doctor sighed. "We're nearing that point." Kurt squeezed David's hand, nervously. "How often do you demonstrate for him?"

"Demonstrate what?"

There was a momentary look of confusion from the doctor, "Uh…the _change_?"

"David can't just change back and forth. He can't even remember what he does when he changes." With the hand that wasn't holding David's, Kurt patted David's arm.

"Most werewolves have difficulty controlling the change. Even still, you know when the full moon is going to happen; Alex should be there when you change, so he can see what happens."

Kurt winced in distaste. "But it looks so _painful_. I don't want to traumatize my baby."

"You won't traumatize Alex; it's perfectly natural for werewolves. It's possible Alex doesn't even realize he _can_ change…actually, it's probably pretty _likely_." Dr. Blanchard picked up on the lack of surety in Kurt and David's expressions as they looked at each other. "Look, studies have shown that parents that read to their children produce children that are stronger readers. Parents who do sports with their children, typically have children who are more active. It's the same with the change; you need to show Alex what it is that happens between the time you're…" The doctor gestured to David, "_you _and when you're a werewolf."

David ran his fingers through his hair, thinking over what his and Alex's new physician was saying. "I…we can try it during the next full moon, but if it freaks Alex out…he'll eventually figure out how to change on his own, right?"

"Same as if he didn't have a werewolf in his life, I suppose." Dr. Blanchard went over to a cabinet and pulled out a small black case with Alex's name on it. "Now, I'm assuming Alex hasn't gotten any of his vaccinations, yet?" He flicked the latches on the case and opened it up, revealing an arsenal of syringes. Kurt flinched and shook his head. "Given that his immune system isn't all it's cracked up to be, yet, we'll need to get him on track for his full set of vaccines; HepB, DTap, IPV, PCB, Hib, rotovirus and eventually his MMR and varicella. Most of these have to be given in several doses over the course of months. I'm only giving him five of the shots today."

"_Only_."

Blanchard stroked Alex's back and hummed soothingly to him while he pulled out the first vaccine. It took Alex by surprise so much, that Blanchard was already finished with that shot by the time Alex whipped around to bite at whatever had just bit _him_. Blanchard, realizing that Alex was not going to cooperate nicely with him, pulled on a pair of leather, bite-resistant gloves. The second shot wasn't too much of an issue, either, as Alex was too busy trying to get away from the doctor to fight back. The third shot, Alex was able to catch the doctor and chewed angrily on his gloved hand, trying desperately to defend himself. The same thing happened with the fourth shot, though this time Alex tried crab stepping away from the needle while biting down on Blanchard's hand. For the final shot, Alex stood still, shaking and whimpering. As Blanchard pulled the syringe back, Alex saw his opportunity and lunged forward, catching the doctor around the wrist, below the glove, and breaking the skin.

"Alex!"

Blanchard calmly gripped his bleeding wrist before heading over to the sink to rinse the wound out. Given Alex's size, the puncture wounds weren't large, but he must have nicked him just right, given the amount of blood. Blanchard barely batted an eye as he placed a slip of cotton batting over the wound and began wrapping an ace bandage around his wrist. "Now, Mr. Karofsky, do you think we'll be able to get through _your_ physical without any bloodshed, or am I going to have to get a muzzle out?"

David was pale, not picking up on the doctor's jovial tone of voice. "I am _so_ sorry. He can't pass on 'the bite' yet, he's too young, but I am _so_ sorry."

Blanchard shrugged. "When you're one of the only doctors around to deal with unhumans, you get used to the occasional bite…or scratch…or curse. Had a young witch in here place a curse on my 'fields and livestock.' All the plants in the waiting room shriveled up and died. I figured no biggie. I get home, every last piece of roughage in my refrigerator and yard had turned brown. She also made my cat lose all his fur. You get used to it after a while."

Kurt shook his head disbelievingly. "I'm sorry, but what would convince you to work with unhumans if _that's_ the kind of treatment you get?"

"You'd be surprised. Most are extremely grateful for my mere existence. Alex is a baby; he doesn't understand what he's doing. As far as he knows, he's defending himself." Almost to emphasize the doctor's point, Alex, tail between his legs, slunk to the corner of the counter and sat, his back to the wall, growling in quiet discontent to himself. Blanchard opened a clear glass jar on his counter and pulled out a strip of beef jerky. Handing it towards Alex, the little pup immediately perked up and slowly edged closer to the doctor, tiptoeing just close enough to grab the jerky between his front teeth and quickly retreat to the corner. "I started as a veterinarian, but when my grandmother got older and no doctor would help her, I realized I had a higher calling. I went back to school and have been taking care of unhumans, ever since."

"Your grandmother?" David narrowed his eyes curiously. "Are _you_ an unhuman?"

Blanchard smiled an awkward half-smile. "I'm a bultungin: a hyena-man."

"Your kind has a worse reputation than werewolves."

Blanchard nodded, sadly. "Yes, and our reputation is just as _fabricated_ as that of the werewolf. I've spent the better part of my life educating my fellow doctors on unhumans; trying to help them separate fact from fiction. Unfortunately, there are still very few that are willing to help unhumans, except beyond the absolute minimum. Sadly, the relationship between unhumans and the medical profession is so poor that very few unhumans are willing to even trust the doctors that would be _happy_ to help them."

"When I was pregnant with Alex, I was too afraid to go to the hospital; David delivered Alex for me. Even if I had known David's father worked at the hospital…I probably wouldn't have gone. All it takes is one rogue nurse or prejudice doctor. Thankfully, David's such a good Boy Scout. He saved me and Alex." Kurt eyed up his boyfriend, smiling at him longingly like a new crush. David just turned pink and looked down at his feet.

The doctor was quiet and thoughtful, nodding slowly at Kurt's account of Alex's birth. "So, David, when's the last time _you've_ seen a doctor?"

"My father's a trauma surgeon…and an orthopedic surgeon, I think. He's been acting as my general physician since I got bit." David began tugging off his shirt as the doctor approached him with a stethoscope.

Pressing the cold metal against David's chest and instructing David to 'take a deep breath,' Blanchard joked "So in other words you haven't seen a doctor since you were bit. I have infinite respect for what surgeons do, but it's _not_ the same as what a general physician does. Another deep breath." Blanchard moved the stethoscope. "Breathe normally, now…Your lungs sound good." Opening a drawer beside the bed on which David sat, Blanchard pulled out a blood pressure cuff.

"It must take a _lot_ to become an unhuman specialist…I mean, only an unhuman specialist can really do…well, _anything_ to do with unhumans. And there are so many different _types_ of unhumans, and then you probably have to know a lot of different types of medical practices, not just the general stuff."

There was a shrug of nonchalance from the doctor. "It's not too different from being a veterinarian. The only _real_ difference is that now my patients can tell me where it hurts." He chuckled at his own joke. "It requires a lot of schooling, though."

"What kind of schooling?" Kurt saw a light of curiosity in David's eyes he didn't see all that often. It wasn't casual curiosity that David was trying to satisfy; it was something _more_. Something Kurt wasn't sure he could put his finger on. "There isn't exactly a school you can go to in order to be an unhuman specialist, is there?"

"Not as such, no. There are several popular paths, for the few of us willing to go through it all. You can do what I did: start with a veterinarian degree, then get a bachelors of medicine or bachelors of surgery, and then continue on to get your doctor of medicine. It's about 12 years of schooling, not including residency; there's a little overlap between the veterinary and human area of study. You can also do it the other way; become a doctor first and _then_ a veterinarian. I also know of a few colleagues that have gotten their doctor of medicine degree and then gotten a bachelor's of biology. There's no real governing body, as of yet, but I don't know _anyone_ who recommends that last path of study."

"I assume you recommend the path you took?"

Blanchard thought about that, "Actually, if I had to go back and do it all again, I'd have started out with my doctor of medicine degree. Since unhumans are _technically_ humans, you legally have to be a board certified doctor to work with unhumans. The veterinarian degree is optional, but _exceptionally_ useful. I know of a few practicing physicians that have been slowly getting their veterinary degrees while actively working at a hospital or in a smaller practice."

"Do you enjoy it?"

xoxoxo

Alex was curled up in his car seat still chewing on the strip of beef jerky that Dr. Blanchard had given him in lieu of a lollipop. His little tail thumped happily against the plush, lambskin side of his seat.

Kurt was lounging in the passenger seat, his shoe-less feet up on the dashboard. "You were awfully chatty in there."

"It was interesting."

"I'm sure it was." Kurt smiled at David.

David must have spotted him out of the corner of his eyes, because he looked away from the road long enough to return Kurt's smile, with an edge of suspicion to it "What?"

Kurt shook his head, "Nothing…I just like seeing you happy. I don't see that a whole lot, lately. You seemed happy talking to Blanchard."

"I like talking about unhumans."

"No…no you really don't. You always look awkward and…_constipated_ when you're talking to the guys over at Dalton. It's like the unhuman version of alcoholics anonymous; necessary, but not fun. You really liked talking to Dr. Blanchard. You like talking about doctor-stuff."

David, his lip quirked up in a half smile, kept his eyes on the road. "My dad's a doctor; I grew up with this stuff. It's natural to me."

"My dad's a mechanic. I _know _cars; they're natural to _me_, but that doesn't mean they _interest_ me. Doctor-stuff interests you."

David's smirk broadened. "I dunno what you're talking about."


	39. Slayer at the Door

Alex had been weirded-out seeing his dad change into a werewolf. David lay in his and Kurt's bed, his body tensing as he felt the change taking hold of him. Kurt sat at the foot of the bed, holding Alex. Alex wanted to climb into the bed with his Other Daddy, but Kurt held him firmly. The pup whimpered and looked between Kurt and David when David began to thrash. He whimpered again before letting out a short string of staccato barks.

David's arms and legs had elongated. A tail had sprouted from his tailbone. Fur was bristling out from his pores. His ears had shifted their location, become larger, and changing shape until they were two pointed triangles on the top of his head. Alex no longer whimpered worriedly and instead was starting to look curious. He strained as far forward in Kurt's arms as he could get, his ears perked forward, his head cocked to the side as he watched his father complete the change. When Wolf had completely replaced David, Kurt allowed Alex to scamper out of his arms and onto the bed beside his daddy.

As Wolf opened his eyes and began to stretch himself, Alex pawed at Wolf's muzzle, before flopping onto his side and reaching his front paws out towards his daddy. Wolf craned his neck down and wrapped his mouth around Alex's head. Picking his son up that way he deposited Alex into his paws and began grooming his son while Alex fidgeted in his father's large paws.

xoxoxo

According to Kurt, allowing Alex to watch him change had been moderately successful. Alex had paid careful attention during both Dave's change into Wolf, and Wolf's change back into Dave. David sat in the living room, pulling on a pair of shoes while Kurt regaled him with Alex's reactions. Kurt had been sharing everything with David all morning – while David changed, while they ate breakfast, while David brushed his hair and teeth – all while Kurt stifled yawns. Full moons were always so hard on Kurt's sleep cycle. Apparently, after Wolf had released Alex, Alex had set to work busily investigating him; sniffing him all over, as though he were trying to figure out where the human-version of Other Daddy had gone. That was somewhat encouraging to David; life would be so much easier for Alex if he had a little less fur.

David looked behind the couch and by the front door. "Kurt? You seen my bookbag?"

Kurt pursed his lips off to the side while he thought about it. "You did your homework in the nursery last night, remember?"

Shaking his head, David jogged back up to the second floor. He was running late for school. Kurt wasn't the only one whose days were messed up by the full moon. David pushed open the nursery door. Alex, unlike his two daddies, was perky and wide-awake. The same could not be said of Moo Cow. Moo Cow was curled up, fast asleep – yet still alert, as only cats can manage – on the changing table next to Alex's crib. Right where David's bookbag _should_ have been. Instead, David's bag had fallen (more likely been _pushed_) off the side of the changing table and into Alex's crib. Papers were scattered around the floor surrounding Alex's crib as well as in the crib. Leaning into Alex's crib, David picked up a fist-full of papers. The first page, which had been ripped clean in half and was covered in small tooth-marks and drool, was instantly recognizable to David: 'I believe the overarching theme of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein is the role of parents in childhood development. First of all, Dr. Frankenstein's relation to the monster is very clearly the same as that of an absentee father.'

"Ah, dammit. Alex, you destroyed my English paper. What am I supposed to say? 'Sorry, my _son_ ate my homework?'" David sighed, he could always re-print it and hand it in late. "Oh, well. Not like I'm going to pass that class anyway. She won't let me make up any work from the days I've missed." David turned around to see Kurt standing silently in the doorway, his face white as paper. "Kurt?"

"David…there's a black Chevy Impala out front. In the driveway. A man in a black suit is standing beside it. He looks like a slayer." David tensed and straightened up subconsciously. "He doesn't look armed." David thought he might know who it was; after all, who else _would_ it be? "And he looks alone, but…you can never tell." Dropping the papers and leaving his bookbag behind, David passed by Kurt and out into the hall. "You aren't really going _outside_ are you?"

"If he had anything on me, then hiding inside wouldn't even slow him down." Kurt stopped David when they both got to the front door. David hesitated before turning the knob. He faced Kurt and they just eyed each other for a moment. Neither knew who moved first, but soon, they were entangled in a fierce kiss: their faces pressed together with almost painful pressure, Kurt's arms wrapped tightly around David's waste, David palms pressed to the sides of Kurt's head. "Love you so much, Kurt."

Kurt nodded. "I'll expect you back by dinner."

David just nodded in return and went outside. Whittaker stood between his own vehicle and Dave's. Positioned by the driver's side door, David wouldn't have been able to get in without passing by the federal agent. "Morning, Whittaker. Sorry, can't talk today; I have school."

Whittaker placed a hand against the door and leaned towards David. "You're not very good at calling, are you?"

David swallowed heavily, trying to choke down his nerves as he shrugged with faux confidence. "Yeah, well, I don't have much to talk to you about."

"That so? Then get in and just listen." Whittaker leaned towards his own vehicle and opened the passenger side door.

David's eyes darted between the open door and Whittaker's face; neither told him what to think of this situation. "And if I refuse?"

"It's in both of our best interests to not need to find out." David leaned down and ducked into the vehicle. Hearing Whittaker close it after him sounded strangely similar to the sound of cell bars closing. Whittaker got into his own side of the vehicle and, after backing down the Hummel's driveway, they were on their way.

An hour into the drive, David grew sick of the silence. "You're just pissed you couldn't get the charges to stick."

Whittaker shot him a strange look: his eyebrows scrunched in on his eyes, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. He refocused his attention on the road and was quiet for another moment before he let loose a genuinely amused laugh. One of those laughs that actually _sounds_ like a slightly high-pitched 'He-he-he.' "You were never going to jail."

"What? But you were trying to peg my dad as an accomplice and-"

"You need to watch more cop shows…cops'll say a lot of things if it gets someone talking. No, you were never going to go to prison. You were _ten_ David. A child doesn't have a whole lot of understanding or control over their actions or a profound understanding of right and wrong. No. If you were human and you had been found guilty when the crime actually _happened_, you probably would have gone to court-ordered counseling…possibly sent to a psych ward for a bit. No jail."

"But, I'm a werewolf. Things are different for them…_us_."

Whittaker jerked his shoulder up, then quickly let it drop. "All the more reason for that course of action. You may have known what you were doing, but you had absolutely no control over it. And you were feeling guilt even _as_ it was happening. That doesn't really scream cold-blooded killer to me. Believe it or not, the American justice system is based on _justice_…not revenge. You would have needed to learn control over your wolf. That's it."

"So, now? What happens now?"

"You still need to learn control. You and I are headed to DC to meet some friends of mine. They can each help you in different ways: _if_ you let them." Whittaker was quiet as he waited for David to respond, but David wasn't quite sure _how_ to respond. "I've been monitoring you since we met: school records, Internet activity, whatever. You're very interested in the slayers aren't you?"

David nodded. "I was."

"I suppose you know werewolves are an endangered subspecies?" David nodded again. "You also know _very_ well just how powerful they are." Silent nod. "The federal government _likes_ werewolves. It likes them a _lot_. Army Rangers, Navy SEALS, Force Recon, SWAT, tactical response…they all love werewolves. They all _want_ werewolves. Werewolves are strong, durable, heal quickly, make the world's greatest bloodhounds, they're fast, have killer endurance. Just about the only elite teams that don't wet themselves over the thought of recruiting werewolves are the crisis negotiation units. They like vampires – that whole charm thing they do that makes people trust them and listen to them. You've played on a lot of different sports team, right?" Whittaker didn't bother to wait for a response this time. "Just think of me as a recruiter. I saw you first; I intend to snatch you up for my team."

"Wait…you want me to be a federal slayer?" Whittaker flashed his eyebrows in confirmation. "Where the hell were you three, four, five months ago?" David looked out the window, laughing inaudibly to himself at Whittaker's piss-poor timing. Then, almost as an afterthought, it occurred to him, "Why haven't I ever heard of werewolves being so desperately sought by the government?"

"It's bad enough we have all the conspiracy nutjobs out there that think Jews or Illuminati are secretly running the world, you think we want to fan the flames of lunacy by letting people _know_ it's the things they fear most in the world keeping them safe in their beds at night? The government would sooner tell the public that the Roswell crash was indeed an alien spaceship and a newborn Arnold Schwarzenegger was found aboard."

"I'm sorry that you're wasting your time. I don't really want to be a slayer, any longer. I…" David sighed. "When I was little, I always wanted to be a doctor, like my dad. Then I got bit and…I wanted revenge on all unhumans. I wanted to fight them: to destroy them. I've kinda, almost, sorta come to terms with what I am. I don't want to hurt unhumans anymore."

"Have I hurt you?"

"What?"

"I'm a slayer. Have I hurt you?" David shook his head. "All I'm asking is that you spend the day with me, David, and hear me out. See what I've got to say. Does that sound fair to you?"

"Yeah…but you're wasting your time."

"Then what's it to you? You get to skip school and get a free trip to the nation's capital."

xoxoxo

David wanted to sleep on the trip to the Columbus airport, but his body no longer wanted those extra few minutes. Instead, he stared out the window and allowed his mind to go blank. It was a quarter after nine when they arrived at the airport. Whittaker left the car with a valet and they both headed to check-in. David felt nervous and needed to ease his tension with mindless babble, "I haven't been on a plane since I was seven."

Whittaker gave David the once-over, taking in David's appearance as they waited in line to check-in with the airline. "You aren't afraid of flying, are you? Because that might _definitely_ put the kibosh on my plans for you."

David smiled and shook his head. "No, I just haven't had a reason to travel by air in _years_. My dad and I…we aren't the 'vacation' type. And dad couldn't plan and organize a vacation if his life depended on it. He'd book the hotel, then remember to create an itinerary a few weeks later and then remember to purchase tickets at the last minute only to discover the plane was booked. He's just not good at stuff like that. He needs solid deadlines to function. My grandparents had planned the trip; they took me, my mom and dad, my cousins, and my aunts and uncles to Disney. It was awesome. I made my aunt take me on 'It's a Small World'…by the fourth time on the ride, she had decided she _was_ the designated smoking section."

"Well…DC isn't exactly Disney, but I think you'll enjoy yourself." As they got to the front of the line, Whittaker pulled some pre-printed tickets from his pocket and showed them to the lady at the computer.

She smiled politely and looked the tickets over. "Luggage?"

"None, today."

"IDs?"

Both Whittaker and David dug through their pockets for their wallets. David was the first to have his out and handed it to the woman. She sneered upon seeing the black stripe along the side of his license, but said nothing. She'd leave it up to the TSA to decide whether or not to do anything about him. Whittaker handed over his license, as well as his FBI ID card. David only paid a cursory glance to his FBI card. It was Whittaker's driver's license that was more interesting to him.

It had a pale blue stripe up the side "You're an unhuman?"


	40. Hall of Human Subspecies

**For my metric users: **

**50F = 10C **

**6 foot 8 inches = 203cm**

**babycakes12: Not ironic. I did it intentionally; I'm watching you.**

…**always watching…**

**xoxoxo**

"You're an unhuman? What the _hell_ is that about?"

Whittaker tried shushing David as he chuckled. "Keep your voice down…this is an _airport_. You try _not_ to draw attention to yourself at airports. Yes, though. I _am_ an unhuman."

David followed Whittaker to the line where you dropped off your shoes, took off your belt, and got legally molested by government-approved voyeurs. "What kind?"

"I'll give you a hint. I was _born_ a human."

As David dug through his pockets for anything metal or otherwise suspicious to the body scanners, he thought it over. "So…you had to have been _turned_. You aren't a werewolf, because the stripe would have been black…and I think vampires have brown stripes, because even though they're deadly, they aren't volatile and going up against them isn't an automatic death sentence…um, so I guess you're a…" David gave up and shrugged. "…sentient zombie?"

David and Whittaker both laughed at that. Whittaker held his hand out to David, palm side up. "Press the center of my hand as hard as you can." David stared at Whittaker a moment, not quite understanding the request. "Put a finger or two in my palm and just _push_…as hard as you can." David did as he was told. When he first started putting pressure on Whittaker's palm, Whittaker's hand dropped slightly, but Whittaker lifted it back up, pushing against David fingers. It felt odd to be doing this to Whittaker, but other than the act itself, nothing felt unusual.

Until the pressure suddenly disappeared and David's fingers and the rest of his hand passed right through Whittaker's. "Holy…"

"It used to take conscious effort for me to remain solid. Now it's as natural as breathing." Whittaker quieted and became business-like as they passed through the body scanner and got wanded and then frisked. Once they were away from the TSA agents, Whittaker continued on: "I was born a human and I _died_ a human.

"It all started with Cecilia. I met her in Redwood National Park. I was hiking and being a dumbass; climbing trees, throwing rocks at small birds, trying to catch squirrels…stupid things amuse you when you're into marijuana."

"Did an FBI agent just admit breaking federal law to me?"

"It was thirty damn years ago…you _really _think they care? Anyway, I met Cici in the middle of the woods and she was all too happy to inform me of my douche-baggery. I fell in love with her then and there. She was a nymph. And she was…" Whittaker paused and sighed, placing his hand on his chest at the memory of his first meeting with Cecilia. "She was the most perfect creature I'd ever seen. She was a willow-nymph, but her clan had been forcibly relocated to Northern California…a poor environment for a willow nymph. I spent the next few weeks courting her, a few years dating her…then a few years married to her. Both our families disowned us; I didn't care because I came from a broken, abusive family anyway. She didn't care because, by marrying a human, she was no longer confined to the Redwoods."

"Wait…why would she be confined to the Redwoods?"

"Hmm…I guess it was a bit before your time. Most nymph clans refused to acknowledge the US government as a body of authority, so the US government treated them, more or less, the same way they treated Native Americans in the nineteenth century: herd them all together on small plots of land completely dissimilar to their natural habitats. They abolished that law around 1990…around the time I died. I was coming home from my job as a night guard at a local mall. Some guys came right up to me, 'You that tree-fucker?'…didn't even give me a chance to respond – though I wouldn't have denied it. They shot me in the stomach and then beat me until I bled to death.

"It took me a long time to make myself visible, again. I just walked around invisible. You can only watch your loved ones without being seen or heard for so long before your heart breaks. By 1995, I was finally able to make myself completely solid again – but only with a lot of hard work and for short bursts. I had a great deal of help, though. You'll be meeting her today; Her name is Grace. She was with the FBI for a good twenty years, but she was already retired and working at the Smithsonian when I met her. She's the one that got me in touch with the federal slayers."

By now, they were already seated and waiting for their plane to finish taxiing. "I'm sorry if it brings up harsh memories…but what about Cecilia?"

Whittaker's eyes were downcast. "She, uh…she couldn't be with an apparition…a ghost. She said that humans and nymphs were earthly creatures. Ghosts are sky-bound, or some bull like that. She found one of her own kind to be with - another 'nature spirit' - a faun. She's happy now, though, and I'm pretty contented myself. I think you'd be pretty happy yourself if you joined the FBI." David rolled his eyes at the obvious sales pitch.

xoxoxo

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Dulles International Airport. Local time is 10:45am and the temperature is 50 degrees Fahrenheit. For your safety and comfort, we ask that you please remain seated…" David stretched himself out. Even though the flight had been a quick hop, he still felt slightly stiff thanks to the narrow legroom. His ears had popped repeated during ascent and descent giving him a minor headache – and jaw ache – and his butt felt flattened against the seat. "…thank you for joining us on this trip and we are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. Have a nice day!"

David and Whittaker sat and waited for most of the passengers in front of them to vacate the plane. They had no luggage which made disembarking a whole lot simpler: no bags to get caught on the back of a seat, or lodged between two seat, no accidentally hitting someone in the back of the head as they passed, no stopping to try to figure out whether or not your luggage would fit in the gap between a standing passenger and a seat. Once they were back in the terminal, David nudged Whittaker's arm with his hand; he was starting to feel comfortable – _familiar_ – with the agent. "Can I borrow your cell phone?"

Whittaker dug his phone out of a hidden inside pocket in his suit coat while frowning at David. "A teenager without a cell phone? That might be more endangered than werewolves."

David quirked his lips up into a smile as he started tapping Kurt's number into the older Nokia. "I left my phone in my bookbag…it's in my son's nursery."

The phone rang a few times before Kurt's voice tentatively responded with a greeting on the other end of the line.

"Kurt? It's Dave. Yeah, I'm ok; I'm not in trouble. I'm in DC. Agent Whittaker has some friends he wants me to talk to; listen, I don't know much of anything yet, so how 'bout I fill you in tonight when I get home? Yes…I promise I'll be careful. Yes…if anything bad happens I'll get out of here. I'll see you–"

Whittaker snatched the cell phone out of David's hand and pressed it to his own ear. "Mr. Hummel, I assure you I will keep your boyfriend safe. I promise you I will not injure him or, through inaction, allow him to come to harm…Well, I kinda have to get him off the plane before the sun sets, so, yes, I'll have him home at a reasonable hour. Ok…yep…here he is." Whittaker handed the phone back to David.

"Sorry about that, Kurt. Whittaker's…well, he's weird. I'll fill you in on everything when I get home. Love you, too. Love you. Bye."

xoxoxo

"_Holy_…this place is _awesome_! I didn't realize elephants were that big."

"And yet you could easily take one down without a second thought. Come on. We want to be in the back left corner of the museum."

Whittaker started heading around the elephant, but David hesitated following after. "Can't we just…look around for a bit?" David looked around at the different signage. "Are there dinosaurs here? Can we go look at the dinosaurs?"

"David, I am _not_ babysitting. Stop whining like a child and come on. We have a meeting we have to get to at one, meaning we have precious little time to get our meeting _here_ done." Despite Whittaker's testimony that he wasn't babysitting, David felt like a small kid getting chastised. "If you _really_ want to look around, we have to pass through the Ocean exhibit or the Mammal exhibit to get where we're going. Your choice."

It took David half a second to decide. "Mammals!" Whittaker nodded and headed towards the Mammal Hall on the left. He led David through the Africa exhibit, then the Australia exhibit, then through South America and North, and then into the John D. Harron Hall of Human Subspecies. As soon as they entered, they were greeted by the sight of different unhuman skeletons.

A large angelus – no less than 6 foot 8 – stood naked down to the bone with its enormous wings extended to its left and right. David had never seen one before. In fact – he was certain all of the unhumans in this room were extinct. He knew for a fact that the dragon was extinct, but its skeleton was on display in the left of the antechamber. It was about the size of the rhinoceros they had passed earlier in the Mammal hall, plus wings. It was divided evenly down the center, with fake muscles and flesh covering the left half of the dragon. "They're smaller than I thought."

Whittaker approached the display and pointed wordlessly at the plaque explaining the display. David came up to Whittaker and looked where his finger was pressed against the description. _Juvenile Dragon. Circa 870 C.E._ "Juvenile…whoa."

Aside from the angelus and dragon, there was a display that vaguely reminded David of Hans Solo trapped in the carbonite from Star Wars. The display was of pale yellow sedimentary rock with the defined fossilization of a skeletal mermaid lying on her side – at least David assumed it was a 'her'. Her hands were clasped under her head, her tail curled up behind her butt and back. She looked like she had lain down in the sand to go to sleep and never woken up.

The next room in the 'Hall of Human Subspecies' seemed to focus on the interrelations between unhumans and normal humans. There were artifacts from various human cultures depicting unhumans, and artifacts from the cultures of different types of unhumans. A partially broken stained glass window showed humans binding angelas and then burning them. A plaque showed the official title of the piece to be "The Purge of the False Prophets." Not far from that display was a rough-hewn coffin. Peering in, David could see the remains of what had to have once been a vampire. The neck bone had been severed cleanly and the rib cage was shattered on the left side: over where the heart would have been. A wooden spike was displayed innocently inside the ribcage where it had fallen after years of decay had eaten away at the vampire's tissues. David felt his stomach churn in agitation.

They continued on through that room of the hall and came across another room with various dioramas showing unhumans in their natural, ancestral habitats. Small plastic fairies played in a box bush. Their wings looked like delicate little butterfly wings. A small wax person hid behind a fake tree staring out at the fairies. He wore an undyed, rough woolen shirt that reminded David of a gunnysack in its texture and woolen trousers dyed dark brown. He had wild, shaggy red hair. David assumed he was supposed to be a leprechaun, but he didn't look like any leprechaun David had ever seen.

The box bush was part of a fake, cultivated hedgerow that surrounded a thatch hut that was partially painted onto the wall, partially constructed as part of the set. In the doorway of the hut (which had a blanket as the door, pulled back so that you could see inside) there was a hag hanging herbs to dry from the roof of her modest domicile. Farther down in that same Eurocentric display, the forest of fake trees became thicker. If you looked upwards into one of the trees, you could see a lovely naked woman, slight of build with long luscious brown hair and pale features. Her lower privates were censored by the placement of a well-bent branch. "A nymph?"

"Yes. She looks a bit like Cecelia – most nymphs have the _exact_ same complexion, the same hair, the same eyes, the same sparse smattering of freckles along their noses. This one is missing the light all nymphs have, though." His hands clasped behind his back, Whittaker walked to the end of the display.

David had almost missed it, but he saw a werewolf hunkered down between two large bushes (small trees, really). You could only really see it if you stood directly in front of it, its dark fur was so well camouflaged in the darkness of the artificial forest. He was hunkered down on all fours, his weight on his back paws. His head tilted up with his ears craned forward and his eyes large. He looked like he was trying to sniff at whatever visitor to the museum stood before him at the moment. "That's our Rupert. He donated his body to science after his suicide in 1999." David turned around and saw that a well-dressed elderly woman had come to stand behind him. Whittaker was at her side. "He's a huge improvement over Ernst – our last werewolf."

"He's…he _was_ alive?"

The woman nodded. "A few of our displays are taxidermies. These days we try to make certain that the specimen on display actually _wanted_ to be on display, though. Ernst, our last werewolf, had been a lynching victim from 1916. German _and_ a werewolf: not a good mix during the First World War. His remains were returned to his great grandchildren once we got Rupert." She reached out her hand and stroked Rupert's muzzle, despite the numerous signs asking people not to touch the displays. "The taxidermist also did a far better job than the one who handled Ernst. Ernst had been preserved in an upright position to show off his sheer size. It's a rather unnatural, uncomfortable position for werewolves. They prefer being on all fours, or atthe very_ least_ hunched over. Their back feet aren't designed to keep them stiffly upright for very long."

"You know a lot about werewolves…you're Grace, Whittaker's friend, aren't you?"

She held her hand out to David. "That I am. And I _should_ know my werewolves. I've been in charge of this particular hall in the museum for about eight years now and have worked in this hall for nigh on two decades."

"And you were a slayer, before that."

"Yes, I was. Whittaker has told you quite a bit about me, hasn't he?" David nodded. "Did he tell you why he brought you to me?" David glanced over at Whittaker. It was possible Whittaker had told him during the plane ride, but David had been so fascinated watching a miniaturized world pass by he had zoned him out. He decided to shake his head in the negative. "Well, David, Whittaker is hoping you'll join the slayers and if you do, I can help mentor you in your transformations."

"Have you helped other werewolves gain control of the change?"

"I have helped many unhumans control themselves. Milton here is living proof of that…_metaphorically_ speaking of course."

Whittaker smiled good-naturedly while shaking his head. "Grace, you're an ass."

**xoxoxo**

**Dear Darwin – sorry I bulldozed your hall in the Smithsonian so I could fit in the Hall of Human Subspecies. **

**And for anyone interested, if you Google it, the Smithsonian has a virtual tour of the Museum of Natural History. Minus human subspecies, of course.**


	41. The Director

**Spearit asked if crossbreeds were possible with unhumans. I decided early on (in my mental notes for this story - it's never actually come up) that crossbreeds are not possible in this universe. **

**Say Whittaker (before his death) and Cecilia had had a child; their child would have either been a nymph or a human (though "unhuman" is the stronger gene). Not a watered-down nymph-human. **

**Same thing with unhuman mates: assume for a second Blaine and Sebastian had children; each child would randomly be either a vampire or an incubus (50/50 chance). **

**I'm sure there's nothing in genetics to support such an assertion, but then again there's nothing in science to support the fact that David's change each month pisses all over the law of the conservation of mass. **

**My reasoning for this is that there would be **_**way**_** too many 'whatamacallit' subspecies out there (imagine one person with an incubus's sex draining powers, a vampire's charms, a werewolf's shapeshifting, a hag's magic, etc.) – it would just make things **_**way**_** too confusing. **

**Also, Powerlad asked about male nymphs – I've updated the previous chapter to reflect that male nymphs (rather, male nature spirits) are fauns.**

**xoxoxo**

He was nervous: too nervous to do anything much more than stare mindlessly at his son and Moo Cow as they played in the living room. Kurt had unearthed an old laser pointer from the junk drawer in the kitchen and was using it to tease Moo Cow. While Kurt sat bent over on the couch, his head resting on his palm, his elbow dug into his knee, he used his free hand to limply dart the red light around the room. Moo Cow dug her claws into the floor as she scampered after the light. The tiny sounds of her claws snagging on the carpet fibers were just barely audible to Kurt. Alex didn't seem to notice the laser, but he was having the time of his life chasing after Cow and tackling and ramming into her side to knock her over.

The call from David and Whittaker hadn't much eased Kurt's nerves. Whittaker…that was the same guy who was in charge of David's case, wasn't he? How could he go from trying to put David away to taking him on a nice little vacation to Washington, DC? Something was wrong here, and Kurt wasn't entirely sure what it was. Kurt had made a few calls as soon as David hung up and was now waiting on a response.

Cow was crouched a few inches from where Kurt hovered the laser dot, her butt twitching back and forth as she got ready to pounce. Alex was the first to pounce instead, landing on Cow's back and prompting her to roll over so she could grab the sides of Alex's face with her claws her mouth wide open as she prepared to bite – just in case. Alex _woof_ed in her face then bounced back, awaiting her retaliation. At that moment, Kurt's cellphone started blaring out part of the chorus of Shania Twain's "Whose bed have your boots been under?"  
_Whose bed have your boots been under?_

_And whose heart did you steal I wonder?  
This time did it feel like thunder, baby?  
And who did you run to?  
And whose lips have you been kissin'?  
And whose ear did you make a wish in?_

It was Sebastian's ringtone. If he was able to come through for Kurt, Kurt might have to consider changing the weasel's ringtone to something slightly less insulting. "Sebastian?"

"Hey Kurt. I talked to my father."

Sebastian's voice was a bit wary on the other end of the line, as though he wasn't sure how to proceed. "And?"

"_And_, it isn't really great." Kurt felt his heart plummet. "According to my father, it doesn't really matter _what_ the laws are. When the government doesn't like someone, they can sometimes just, you know, _disappear_. It doesn't even really matter that you know who David was with last; he's a werewolf. You can raise as much stink as you want if he doesn't come back; no one is going to care." Kurt wanted to cry. "That being said…my dad wanted to know if David was the one that was connected to that whole serial killer thing eight years ago."

"Yeah. He killed the serial killer."

"Ok, well that makes things significantly better. My dad heard in passing from another lawyer, a federal prosecutor, that the FBI _fought_ with the federal prosecutor in charge of David's case to keep him from going to trial. If they wanted David out of the picture, they would have just let it go to trial; with all the hubbub following a trial like that, even if he had been able to get off – which is _not_ likely – he would have been killed by angry mobs after the trial, probably. Unhumans aren't like other minority groups, we really don't stick up for our own kind."

"Sebastian! Get _on_ with it! Why would the FBI fight to get him off the hook only to pick him up later?"

"They probably need him for something. Tonight's a full moon, you know? Maybe they need Wolf to sniff something out for them? Do some kind of legwork? I dunno. All I know is that they probably have some kinda use for him."

Kurt thought about that a minute. "No…no that doesn't make sense. Whittaker said he'd be home tonight."

"Well, then I dunno what to tell you. It doesn't look too hopeless." There was a moment's hesitation on Sebastian's end of the line before he added in, "Believe it or not, I wish you well, Kurt. Call me or Blaine when you find out anything." Then there was silence on Sebastian's end of the line. Kurt slumped back on the couch and let his head flop back. He stared at the ceiling.

xoxoxo

David, Whittaker and Grace enjoyed a nice lunch at the Atrium Café in the museum at David's prompting. The closer to the exhibits they ate, the more time David had to explore. Grace was all too happy to act as their docent, showing them around the museum while she talked to David. She candidly revealed to David at one point that even if he didn't take up Whittaker's job offer, she would be all too happy to help train him. She was a very nice old woman: one of those comforting grandmother types. When he told Whittaker that as they headed off to the FBI headquarters together, Whittaker had laughed and told him not to be fooled by appearances. Grace had been in the slayers for a reason; she was a tough, _dangerous_ old bat if she wanted to be.

Before long, David and Whittaker found themselves getting checked for weapons as they entered the FBI headquarters. David could tell the security guard checking him was trying not to smirk as he placed David's stuffed squid aside: a souvenir for Alex from the National History Museum. He'd gotten Kurt an amber dragonfly pin.

Whittaker led David through the building, stopping or slowing every so often to greet a familiar face or friend. The building seemed to be at least as big as the museum had been, but significantly less interesting. It could have been any office building on Earth as far as David was concerned. At long last, Whittaker and David found themselves standing before a secretary. She made a quick call announcing their arrival, placed the phone down and led them to a door leading into another office.

Several gentlemen sat around the office, one behind a large desk, and one off to either side of the desk. The men stood when David and Whittaker entered, but not for David's benefit. Whittaker appeared to be personally familiar with each of the men as they shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Once Whittaker had made his rounds, he introduced David to each of the men. "Executive Assistant Director for Human Resources James Godin, Executive Assistant Director for National Security Arthur Medlock, and Director Gerald Bratcher." David almost fainted. Director? As in _the_ Director of the FBI?!

"Have a seat, gentlemen." Two empty seats were situated directly in front of the director's desk. Whittaker took the one on the left, leaving the one on the right for David. David looked around awkwardly trying to find a place to put the squid before bending over, embarrassedly, and placing it under his chair. "So, David." David swallowed heavily. "I suppose you know why Agent Whittaker has brought you here today?"

David opened his mouth to answer, but found his voice squeaked. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I was told that werewolves are desirable by several branches of the federal government."

"That they are. They're the single most powerful breed of unhuman. Virtually indestructible unless you have access to weaponry generally reserved for the military; incredibly quick – both physically and mentally; and their senses put the greatest domesticated animals to shame." The director had his hands folded on his desk. Even with his expression blank and his body motionless, he appeared greatly intimidating. David had to keep reminding himself that he had been _asked_ to come. They _wanted_ him: not to _hurt_ him. "Agent Whittaker has also informed us that you have an interest in joining the slayer unit of the FBI."

David licked his lips nervously. This was _not_ the type of person you wanted to contradict. "I…I did. But, I've changed. I no longer want to hurt unhumans."

Medlock responded. "Being a slayer isn't _about_ hurting unhumans. It's about _protecting_ humans, no matter their species."

"I understand that. But I've decided…_realized_ that it's my dream to be a doctor. I want to specialize in unhumans." David felt rather proud of himself for being fully willing to recommit himself to his earlier dreams of being a doctor.

The human resources guy – Godin – responded. "As is my understanding, you have a son and boyfriend to provide for. Do you know what the time commitment and medical school cost is to become a doctor? How do you plan on supporting your family?"

David felt rather smug about having a ready answer to that. "My father has squirreled away every single spare cent he's made since I was bitten to support me as an adult. Do you have any idea how much my father makes?"

The director shuffled through some pages lying on the table in front of himself before responding, "Three hundred, fifty seven thousand, eight hundred and fifty nine dollars a year, correct?"

David felt the blood drain from his face. He knew Whittaker had been keeping tabs on him, but to have the facts stated so bluntly, so matter-of-factly by someone David had never met before, it unnerved him. "Y-yes sir."

Whittaker craned his body so that he was pointed between the director and David, while he craned his neck even further to look David in the eye. "So what colleges have to applied to so far, David?" David swallowed and shook his head. The year had just been so…he hadn't had any real time to think about the next year. "What colleges do you think will accept someone with a 2.7GPA and nearly a month of accrued absences in the past year alone? Certainly not any medical schools I'm familiar with."

"I have connections, through my father. He can help me find a college."

"David." The director said his name in a no-nonsense manner. "Don't you think your father has done enough for you? It's time to grow up. Becoming an agent guarantees you and your family comfort for as long as you wish to remain a slayer. You will no longer have to worry about harassment or unwarranted violence against you, your boyfriend, or your son."

David felt his resolve weakening. "I really…_really_ want to be a doctor. But, part of me still wants to be a slayer, also. I spent so long idolizing slayers." David shook his head.

"David…you killed a powerful werewolf at the age of _ten_ during your first transformation without any issue whatsoever. You were able to conceal your identity as a werewolf for almost eight years. Wolf is calm, intelligent, and collected. _You_ have a genius IQ and are exceptionally fit in your human form. Aside from the identity disorder – which Grace will _fix_ – you have limited psychological issues compared to _normal_ human teenagers, let alone werewolves. Anyone can be a doctor. _You_ were built to be a veritable super soldier."

Medlock, from National Security had been shuffling through some of the paperwork on the director's desk while the others talked. He had a file in his hands and flipped through each of the pages before putting it down. "There have been roughly thirty incidents in the past five years where David could feasibly have been the tipping point. Sir," He pulled out a few choice documents and placed them in front of himself as he addressed the Director. "Could we convene sans David for a few moments? I believe I may have a solution, though I'd like to discuss it with you first."

The director seemed confused, though not entirely uninterested. "David, could you step outside for a few minutes?"

David nodded and stood up, looking between the faces of the high-ranking FBI agents in the room, curious to know what they had in store for him, for his future.

Time ticked away slowly in the outer office. The secretary typed away at her computer and occasionally printed out a few files that she immediately sealed in envelopes and placed in an outgoing mail tray. The minutes the Director had asked for slowly turned to a half hour. Then a quarter of an hour. Eventually, the intercom on the secretary's phone buzzed and David's presence was requested.

"David, you want to be a doctor but you also want to be a slayer. We don't need you _fulltime_, from what I'm reckoning." Medlock gestured to several documents spread out in front of himself, though David made no move to see what was contained in those documents. "We have part time agents. They typically work shortened weeks: 16-32 hours." He turned his focus to the director, who nodded approvingly for him to continue. "I'd like to propose an alternative form of the part time employment. The Army has their little weekend warriors, the National Guard, working one weekend a month two weeks a year. Why can't the FBI have our own equivalent? David, how would you like to work and train as a slayer during your off-time from school, as well as on an 'as-needed' basis? And then, once you finish school, we can reevaluate the needs of the FBI as well as you own needs. The FBI will assist you in getting placement in a medical school whose proximity is convenient to your position as an agent-in-training. In exchange, you – or rather your wolf, until you've gained control of him – will assist us with the more…'_tricky'_ cases."

The director spoke up. "Of course, this is all contingent on our ability to make a written contract that is amenable to all parties. Godin, I'll need you to hammer out the details with the legal department. This will be a unique employment contract. David, are you agreeable to this arrangement?"

David was dumbstruck. "I…ugh…sounds good."

"Excellent." As the director pushed himself away from the desk and began to stand, the other FBI members followed his lead. There was another round of handshaking. "Once your employment contract has been drafted and finalized, Whittaker will see that it finds its way to your hands."

David nodded his thanks to each of the men. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Whittaker placed his hand on David's shoulder and started steering him towards the door, when the director called out for him again. "David?" David turned around to face the director. "Don't forget your squid."

David blushed.


	42. Dinner with Destiny

**Sorry for the delay, my students had finals this week and I had a fever…and I don't know how to call in sick. I suppose it's just as well; there have been far too many mornings when I've woken up and said to myself, "I think I'd rather **_**not**_**, today."**

**Glad so many of you are enjoying Whittaker. I like him too. I subconsciously modeled him a bit after my father; he's an irreverent ass that enjoys what he does, but doesn't take it very seriously – until it comes down to the wire.**

**xoxoxo**

It was just shy of six o'clock when Whittaker pulled into the Hummels' driveway. Never before had David experienced such a hectic day. Two short plane trips, two long car rides, a trip to the Smithsonian, a meeting with destiny and, pretty soon, a meeting with fate. Kurt had _not_ been pleased when David had called him from the airport to tell him Whittaker was coming to dinner. David had a lot to talk to his family about (families? Was David a ligament connecting two families, or a node joining two into one?) and wanted Whittaker there to fill in the blanks that David himself couldn't.

Plus, David had the feeling that Whittaker was going to play an important role in his life; it only made sense that the other important people in his life got to know him.

Kurt was already standing in the doorway when David and Whittaker walked up. "Your dad's here; dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes – it's in the oven." Kurt looked Whittaker over suspiciously, his lips slightly pursed, and a hard as steel look in his eyes. "Hello. I'm Kurt." Kurt held his hand out to Whittaker, but snatched it back almost the second Whittaker had touched it, as though he couldn't bare to touch the slayer. "David, can we talk for a few minutes?"

xoxoxo

"I don't want that _man_ in my house!" Kurt – generally adverse to profanity – inserted as much malevolence and iciness into the word "man" as he could, making it clear he was censoring a more potent choice of descriptor. "He's a _slayer_. I don't want him _anywhere_ near my _son_!"

"_Our_ son. He may be a slayer, but he's a _good_ guy. He's trying to help me…help _us_." David reached out a hand towards Kurt's arm, but Kurt pulled away from him the moment David had reached him. "He's a slayer, yes, but he's also an unhuman."

"Judas! Benedict Arnold!"

David rolled his eyes at Kurt's hyperbole. "Kurt, he isn't a 'traitor'. Look…he _helped_ me stay out of prison, now he's offering me a job with the FBI. _Security_ for us for the future."

Kurt's lower lip wobbled. He was pouting. "Sebastian told me about the whole jail thing."

"Sebastian? _Smythe_? What the hell does _he_ know about that?"

"His father is a district attorney. He knows people who know people who know people. He heard about how the Feds fought to get the charges dropped against you."

David placed a hand on his forehead, shaking his head trying to clear his thoughts. "Sebastian's an incubus, right? How did and _incubus_ advance to _district attorney?_"

"His father's human. His mother's a succubus. Back to Whittaker, though. What do you mean he's offering you a job?"

Kurt seemed to be slightly less standoffish, so David got closer to him, placing a hand on each of Kurt's shoulders. "We'll explain everything at dinner. Whittaker wants to be able to answer any questions; what I'll be doing for them…it isn't the usual."

xoxoxo

Carol had to force the squid away from Alex to get him to the dinner table. He was thoroughly enjoying himself trying to chew the squid's head off while Cow stalked after one of the tentacles. Once Alex had been de-squided, though, Cow lost interest. There was no one to make the tentacles wiggle any longer. Instead, she parked herself under the kitchen table where she was sure she would be treated to table scraps courtesy of David, Finn, and Burt.

Carol held Alex in her lap, forking over stuffed shells for him, one half at a time, as he stood on her knees, his tail slowly slapping against her stomach, while he licked at the dripping sauce.

The rest of the family, plus Whittaker, sat around the table enjoying Kurt and Carol's cooking. No one had done much talking so far, but Paul Karofsky was radiating the same kind of anti-slayer vibes David could sense from Kurt. Finn just looked happy to have a full, home-cooked meal in front of him, Burt and Carol were acting as though nothing were different. "This is really good cooking, Mrs. Hummel."

"Thank you…um… _Whittaker._ Kurt did most of it though. I just cooked and stuffed the shells. Kurt made up the sauce and cheese mixes."

"If you prefer, you can call me Milton." Whittaker used his fork to chop one of his shells into thirds, before folding one of the thirds over on itself and fitting the nice little package into his mouth.

"How can you eat?"

Whittaker thoroughly chewed his food and swallowed politely before responding to David. "Just can. I've never really questioned how or why I can do most of what I can."

Carol paused in her feeding of Alex. "Why wouldn't you be able to eat?" Alex, not bothering to give Carol even a moment to catch back up with the food, shoved his muzzle down into their plate of food – grabbing up a shell and "wolfing" it down. His entire muzzle came up covered in thick, red sauce. "Oh, _Alex_! You little pig." Alex looked up at his grandma, not understanding her words, and swiped his tongue across her chin, smearing it with tomato sauce.

Whittaker chuckled, wholly unused to Alex's antics. "You see, Carol, I'm an unhuman, as well. I'm an apparition."

"You're dead?" Burt inquired rather bluntly.

"Yes. I was murdered for falling in love with a nymph." After over twenty years, it was no longer quite so painful for Whittaker, though every now and then it would tear at his heartstrings.

Paul put his cutlery aside and folded his hands in front of himself, tenting his index fingers and thumbs together. "You're an _unhuman_…yet, you're a _slayer_? You don't find that a bit…hypocritical?"

Whittaker shook his head. "Cops are usually humans, the military is comprised almost solely of humans, most of the FBI is staffed by humans. They all serve the purpose of protecting humans _from_ humans. I don't see a problem with unhumans being the ones to police other unhumans."

"Personally, I think it helps fight some of the problems with speciesism." Everyone looked up at Burt who was busily eating away as though he hadn't even spoken. When he noticed everyone watching him, he looked up rather surprised. Wasn't his point rather obvious? "If more unhumans are allowed to – even _encouraged_ – to serve in the police, the slayers, the FBI, whatever, there will be less instances of humans in power abusing unhumans." When no one commented, he elaborated. "Think about the Rodney King beating – if one of those cops had been black, would the beating have happened? And if it _had_ still happened, would nearly as many people called racism? I don't think having more unhumans in the FBI could lead to anything _bad_, so why fight it?"

Kurt very deliberately placed his fork down without really _banging_ it, to draw attention to himself. "The FBI wants David – actually _Wolf_ – to join them so they can _use_ him to arrest other unhumans. Not unhumans _and_ humans, but _just_ unhumans. It's two completely different things."

Burt shook his head at his son. "Let's face it, Kurt, there _have_ to be slayers to deal with unhumans. If regular cops were expected to deal with unhumans, the training time _alone_ would scare off most candidates. Not to mention the _cost_ of equipping _every_ cop and Fed in the country with the equipment slayers require. No…I think it's a good thing to get more unhumans into the slayers. I also think this is a phenomenal opportunity for David."

Whittaker, seeing that Burt was recruiting most of the room over to his way of thinking, jumped on board. "And the slayers won't be _monopolizing_ David. Other branches of the FBI will probably use him, as well. What the FBI has planned for him is rather unique. He'll be the first werewolf we've been able to get in quite a while – they usually get tempted over to the dark side fairly early by the Marines. David will only be working for the FBI _part-time_. He'll still be able to fulfill his dreams of being an unhuman medical specialist…"

"Unhuman medical specialist?" Paul practically whispered it, as though if he said it too loudly he might be corrected. "You've gone back to wanting to be a doctor?" Paul was obviously as surprised as just about everyone else in the room. Only Kurt really had any idea that David was leaning back towards the medical profession. But Kurt had to admit he hadn't seen Paul so exited, relieved, and _happy_ since he had met his grandson for the first time.

"Sorry, I wasn't aware that wasn't common knowledge."

David shrugged off Whittaker's apology. "That's ok."

"Anyway, the FBI will help David get into a good medical school somewhere not too far from DC or Quantico, he'll go through FBI training this summer and fall, then he'll continue on to med school during the spring semester of college. He'll also get training throughout this time from a former FBI psychologist who is going to attempt to help him control his change and…merge" Whittaker meshed his fingers together, "his and Wolf's identities. He'll report to the FBI as needed for more challenging cases – not just with the slayers, but wherever he's needed. Though he _will_ be classed as a slayer. He, and his dependents," Whittaker gestured to Kurt and Alex, "will have insurance through the FBI and you'll likely be housed – subsidized by the FBI – in family housing at Quantico, if you wish."

David smiled a hopeful smile at Kurt, "You can't object to any of that, Kurt."

"I _can_ and I _will_. I don't want Alex growing up in that kind of atmosphere. His only experience with unhumans will be the ones his father _arrests_. He's going to grow up thinking all unhumans are criminals."

"And that would be different growing up anywhere else, how, exactly? At least growing up at Quantico, he'll constantly have higher-ranking Feds and Marines doting on him, trying to win him over for the FBI and Marines when he's old enough. And he'll be thoroughly protected growing up on a military base. None of the blatant speciesism David faces just getting out of bed every morning. You'll be able to take Alex outside without any fear. And…if you truly object to the idyllic life he'd face at Quantico, you're more than welcome to choose another FBI field location to move closer to once David's done with his training; Cincinnati and Cleveland both have field offices. Hell, you don't even have to accompany him along for his training – I just assumed you'd want to. And for your information, the FBI and military have some of the densest unhuman populations of _any_ profession. Yes, he won't meet a whole lot of other werewolves – if any. But there will be plenty of unhumans showing him that unhumans are _people_, first and foremost. Probably even some unhumans his _own age_ to play with."

Alex had gone unnoticed during Whittaker's mini-monologue and had taken the opportunity to eat his fill off of Carol's plate, leaving his grandmother almost nothing. Everyone was deep in thought over what Whittaker had to say: everyone but the person whom his words most affected – the furriest member of the table, who was busy using his paws to wipe sauce off his head and into his mouth.

Kurt, realizing that by now everyone had been sold by Whittaker's tale of a world somewhere over the rainbow, grasped at one last feeble excuse. "This isn't just David's future we're talking about. Or mine and Alex's, for that matter. Let's see what Wolf has to say about this. Let's let _him_ make the final decision." Kurt was positive Wolf would never agree to this madness.

Whittaker, returning to his meal, shrugged and stabbed at a shell with his fork. "Sounds fine to me."

xoxoxo

David, Finn and Whittaker moved all the furniture in the living room to the far edges of the room to give David space for the change. Moo Cow took the opportunity to explore her new "playground." With the couches and chairs against the walls, she found she could reach things on the walls she'd never even noticed before. She could paw at photographs, reach some of the decorative shelves, and she could _almost_ reach the decorative molding around the top of the doorframe. It was the _almost_ that prompted Burt to lock the kitten up in the nursery while they waited for the change to complete; apparently cats didn't _always_ land on their feet when falling from heights.

Alex was just as busy exploring the new layout of the living room, so didn't give much thought to the loss of his playmate.

Carol tried to find a neutral topic for everyone to discuss while they waited for sundown at 8:02. "So, Milton, what did you do for a liv… _job_, before you joined the slayers?"

"In my final days, to provide comfort for my wife and myself I got a steady job as a security guard. Before that, when I wasn't unemployed for frequent drug use, I was involved in construction. Plumbing and carpentry, mostly, but I could do most anything involving the hands." Whittaker held his hands out in front of himself, marveling at the potential they possessed.

"You any good with cars?"

Whittaker smiled conspiratorially before responding. "My first car was a 1953 Studebaker Champion Regal Starlight my father and I built from the ground up."

That seemed to grab Burt's attention, though no one else in the room seemed familiar with the vehicle. "You're kidding right? That was a _beautiful_ beast. I've only seen one in the shop, and they are _gorgeous_. They rust like nobody's business, but if you love cars, that's a small price to pay."

"Lemme tell you…Ace – my car – _redefined _rust, but I _loved_ her. She was a magnificent creature. She was as classy as classy got. The ladies _loved_ her."

"I'll _bet_." Whittaker, Burt and Paul continued bonding over their favorite previously owned vehicles. Even Carol eventually joined in with her memories of her first vehicle – an Opel Kadett station wagon. Much to Finn and Kurt's mutual discomfort, apparently the gentlemen had "enjoyed" the station wagon, as well.

Just after eight o'clock rolled around, an overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia came over David. It felt as though his very skin were suffocating him. He tensed and shifted off the couch and into the center of the floor, where he wouldn't hit anyone or anything. Alex, thinking his Other Daddy wanted to play with him, jumped down off of Paul's lap and trotted over to David. Kurt lunged after Alex the moment he saw his son trying to climb atop David and scooped him up, grabbing him out of David's reach. Kurt was barely back on the couch before David's eyes rolled back in his head and he lashed his arms out to the sides, his knuckles smacking loudly against the wooden floorboards.

Whittaker, Kurt, and Paul were completely unfazed seeing the change. Carol clutched onto her husband's hand in shock as she watched, and though Burt would never admit it, he would have reached for her hand in his own shock if she hadn't made the first move. Finn's eyes went wide as he watched his friend and housemate writhe and convulse. Alex, still slightly worried seeing his Other Daddy like this, struggled to get out of Kurt's grasp and go be with David on the floor. Kurt only had to grip Alex for a little over two minutes though.

It never ceased to astound him how quickly the change was over.

Once David had fully morphed into Wolf, Kurt released Alex, who immediately dashed over to Wolf and began licking at him. Wolf greeted Alex warmly, grooming his son all over, until he noticed Whittaker watching them. His motions came to an abrupt stop and he pushed Alex behind himself as he rolled over into a crouching position. "Hello again, Wolf."

Wolf nodded in greeting, without relaxing his tensed posture.

"I've been on a bit of a field trip with David today. We went to meet a friend of mine who can help the two of you merge and control the change." Wolf's ears pricked up curiously. "He also met my employers at the Bureau. They'd like to hire you and David." Wolf's head tilted to the side. "You and your family would be cared for, we'd assist you with your education, all we ask is that you help us find and arrest other dangerous unhumans…dangerous unhumans like the man that murdered your mother. Kurt isn't thrilled with the idea, but he said he wanted to see how you felt about it."

Wolf wasn't too _certain_ how he felt about this. How did _Human_ feel about this? He obviously had to like the idea, if Wolf was the deciding factor. Human had wanted to be a slayer for a long time, but that had changed since Human had gotten to know his son. What had happened to change Human's mind back? And if Human and Wolf merged, would they truly _merge_…or would Wolf simply cease to exist? He hated not being able to talk to them and ask questions.

Wolf whimpered to let his frustration known.

Whittaker seemed to understand and nodded knowingly. He pulled out his phone and flipped through his contacts before coming up with the phone number he needed. He had to try the number several times before someone other than the voicemail picked up. From the other end of the line, Wolf's sensitive ears could pick up "Colonel Amanda Hatfield, speaking."

"Colonel, it's Agent Whittaker with the FBI, I know it's probably late –" Whittaker checked his watch, "– early where you are, but I'm in rather desperate need of a translator. Federal business. I hope you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all, Agent. Put them on."

Whittaker held the phone out for Wolf. Wolf, having never handled a phone before, sniffed at it curiously. He understood the purpose of a phone, and how to use one, but wasn't quite sure why Whittaker was _handing_ it to him. On the other end of the line, he heard a small guttural noise, almost like a growl…but for some reason, his brain processed it as more than that. In the far reaches of his brain, his mind turned the words around into something similar to "I'm a werewolf, too. I'll understand you if you try to speak."

Wolf yipped in alarm and jumped back from the cell phone, stumbling over his son in the process.


	43. Project Phoebe

Wolf was flattened out on the floor, the cellphone just in front of his nose as he made gurgling growl-like noises into it. Hatfield had long since stopped translating for Wolf; after over two hours of back and forth, Kurt was moderately horrified to learn Wolf was actually _for_ David joining the slayers, but mostly so he could get the training from Grace. He wanted to be able to be with his family more than a few nights a month. Hatfield had assured everyone that David and Wolf _would_ merge, and Wolf wouldn't simply disappear. Now, Wolf and Hatfield were simply chitchatting about wolfy-stuff as far as Kurt could tell.

Alex was curled up between Wolf's shoulder blades, occasionally waking up and stretching, but generally just sleeping.

Paul had gone home once they got Wolf's opinion on the whole slayer-thing.

Carol, Burt and Finn had all gone up to bed soon after.

Kurt and Whittaker still sat on the living room furniture, Whittaker on the couch, Kurt in an armchair, talking softly while Wolf continued on his conversation with Hatfield. Once everyone else had left, Kurt had no real choice but to talk to Whittaker (or suffer through embarrassing, awkward silence) and had realized, horror of horrors, Whittaker was actually an OK guy. "I could just _feel_ all the death around and underneath me. I guess it's almost like a kinda ESP – extra-sensory perception – that comes with being dead."

"That's how you were able to find all the bodies?"

"Yeah, I know it sounds kind of irreverent, but walking over their resting places I could feel them. Not only that, but I could sense _who_ they were. It was like a tiny voice whispering to me, '_My name is Francene Sprandel; I'm buried right here_.'"

Kurt shivered involuntarily. "That's so creepy. I don't think I'd be able to sleep after that."

"That'd be pretty amusing…a ghost afraid of ghosts. Though I suppose it's possible. People have people-phobias."

"Anthropophobia?" Whittaker pointed his thumb and index finger like a gun and pointed it at Kurt in affirmation. "Not everyone becomes like you when they die…is there something _else_? Or do we just stop existing?"

Whittaker shrugged. "You know as much as I do. It's like…I got on a train but got off a stop too soon. I don't know what comes next. Or even if there _is_ a next; maybe my train's stopped running and this is just _what I am_, for the rest of eternity."

"How did you get involved with the FBI? From what you've said about yourself before you died…you don't really seem the type."

"I took to travelling the country. I was bored and restless. I was in DC around the time I figured out how to make myself solid again. I explored the Library of Congress buildings and while I was hanging out there, I found out about the unhuman exhibit at the Museum of Natural History. I went there trying to find answers of some kind. I didn't find any answers, but I did find Grace. She didn't even have to ask if I was an unhuman; she just knew. She took me under her wing and helped me strengthen my control. She hooked me up with some friends at the FBI and, hell, I figured what'd I have to lose? Not like it was gonna _kill_ me or anything." Whittaker laughed at his own witty joke until he noticed the look of concern Kurt aimed at Wolf. "He'll be fine. I've only met a few werewolves, but he's easily the most powerful…and _level-headed._"

"If werewolves are so highly sought after by the military and the FBI and everyone…why not just _make_ them?"

Whittaker was quiet – pensive – as he watched Wolf on the floor. It took him a while to gather his thoughts, but, at last, he spoke, "This does _not_ leave this room…I can't even guarantee how much of it is accurate. It was long before my time in the government – during Vietnam. They called it Project Phoebe – Phoebe being a Grecian moon titan or something. The Army had a single werewolf in their ranks and convinced him to be part of this project. Then they got a few other volunteers. The werewolf, Subject Alfa, bit the other subjects during a new moon so that there would be less instantaneous stress on them…at least that was the idea. Each of the subjects, aside from Subject Alfa, were placed into holding cells for their first full moon. Everything was fine…_at first_."

xoxoxo

_1961_

_Project Phoebe_

_Diary – Late evening – Day 13_

_Success! Doctor Stringfield allowed me to observe Nathan – "Subject Delta" (isn't it so queer to be expected to call him by such a silly moniker?) – during his first change. Dear sweet God, how painful the change appeared, but he has since assured me he felt no pain – he says it felt like nothing more than one of those stretches you seem to get stuck in until it has worked itself out. _

_Slowly, Doctor Stringfield and his fellow doctors moved in to examine him. The restraints appeared wholly unnecessary, though they did frustrate and anger Subject Delta. Subject Delta is much like himself as a man-wolf, curious and exploring everything. Just like when we were children, his nose must be buried in everyone's business but his own. As the doctors examined his vitals, he was busy examining the doctors. He stuck his nose in some truly scandalous regions! The doctors took it all in stride, though. – Gigi _

_Diary – Early afternoon – Day 14_

_I did my rounds on all the boys today. Only four fully recall what happened during the night: a better percentage than we were anticipating. I can only imagine the stress on the mind during that first change. And so many questions they had! I never thought I would get through the ten of them. Subject Alfa is the most curious. He is a born werewolf. His parents were both killed when he was young and, as an only child, he has never had other wolves to keep him company. He is so excited to truly be part of a "pack." He is sure my Nathan, sorry Subject Delta (I never shall get used to that, I think), will be his "Beta" wolf. They have been fast friends since joining the Army; it's only natural Subject Delta become Beta to the Alpha – Subject Alfa (here I thought the acronyms and initialisms were ridiculous when I joined the Army! These code names and code words are a terrible headache!). – Gigi_

_Diary – Late evening – Day 14_

_The restraints have been removed from the subjects. You can tell Subject Echo is the youngest of the soldiers. His wolf became much like a large puppy, bouncing off the walls, barking, howling, even baying! His bay truly excited the other wolves. We knew the wolves were aware of each other, but up to this point, they were more concerned with themselves. Now that they are released from their restraints, they seem truly curious about their neighbors, though they cannot see or get to each other. - Gigi_

_Diary – Early evening – Day 15_

_It is the final day of the werewolves' cycle. This will be our last opportunity for the duration of a lunar cycle to test how the subjects react to one another. Subjects Juliett and Golf exhibited symptoms of anxiety and nervousness throughout our meetings. I think they are just afraid. Doctor Stringfield announced to the subjects that tonight would be the night we move to the next step. – Gigi_

_Diary – Early Morning – Day 16_

_Dear God have mercy on them. _

_On __**us**__ for what we have done to them._

_It started off well enough. One by one, the wolves were released to a common area. It was as you would expect with canines. There was much circling and sniffing. There were a few scuffles that quickly righted themselves as the wolves struggled to create a hierarchy. Once Subjects Bravo through Juliett had figured things out amongst themselves, we introduced Subject Alfa into the mix. It is six hours later and I still can't make sense of what happened. Subject Alfa behaved no differently than the other wolves from what I could tell, but when he went up to Subject Delta, something seemed to erupt in the room. You could not tell where one wolf ended and the other began. A third and fourth wolf joined the scuffle – though we aren't certain whom, everything was happening so fast. When all had ended, Subject Hotel cowered away from all the others, Subject Delta merely licked the blood from his fur and Subjects India and Charlie attempted to share the "kill" between themselves. Subject Delta seemed to take offense to this and urinated on what remained of Subject Alfa, growling viciously when India and Charlie seemed about to protest the action. _

_Rest peacefully my wonderful Christopher. My hearts truly weeps for you, but for now, my Nathan must be my fist concern. – Gigi_

_Diary – Late Evening – Day 16_

_It seems irreverent to call my boys "subjects" any longer; it's bad enough we have stripped them of their humanity, must we also strip them of what little identity they have left? _

_Silence from Nathan. He will not talk about what happened. Corey rocks himself while crying. Justin seems to have detached himself from the situation. He is in heavy denial. Malcolm is also silent. The others seemed uneasy, but had no memories of the previous night. It was my regrettable duty to tell them what happened. I am physically, emotionally, and spiritually drained this evening. – Gigi _

_Diary – Mid-Afternoon – Day 26_

_Nathan is talking again. His confession was halting and heartbreaking. He, as a wolf, saw Christopher and was suddenly reminded of every slight, every insult, every perceived offense. Nathan instinctually wanted to "best" Christopher, to force him into submission. Christopher, ever the perfect soldier, would not back down from his mission. __**He **__had been designated leader of this group and he would __**keep**__ that position. I doubt he expected it to lead to his death. And it may __**not**__ have led to his death had the other wolves not already acknowledged Nathan as their rightful Alpha. Those two that aided him in destroying Christopher believed themselves to be defending their leader from an intruder._

_Diary – Early Evening – Day 34_

_Strange things are happening with Justin. He has become standoffish, rebellious, and impertinent. He demonstrates no remorse over what has happened. - Gigi_

_Diary – Late evening – Day 165_

_Subject Alfa – Deceased_

_Subject Beta – Acute stress reaction (psychiatric hospitalization)_

_Subject Charlie – __Sociopathic_ _personality disturbance (federal incarceration)_

_Subject Delta – Acute stress reaction (psychiatric hospitalization)_

_Subject Echo – Deceased – Suicide _

_Subject Foxtrot – Generalized nervous disorder_

_Subject Golf – Chronic depression_

_Subject Hotel – Deceased – Suicide_

_Subject India – Deceased – Suicide _

_Subject Juliett – Acute stress reaction (psychiatric hospitalization) _

_The colonel is officially declaring this project a failure. The doctors and I are in agreement; the "bite" destroys some of what makes us human. Our ability to separate our instincts from what is right and wrong. This change bleeds over into the human. Individuals deal with this extreme alteration in psychosis differently. It is impossible to tell exactly __**how**__ someone will react to the bite. It would take psychological testing beyond our ken. How can a psychologist possibly identify every nuance of our personality that may be released? Or suppressed? Or exacerbated? How well do we even know ourselves? I fear how I would react were I a werewolf; there have been those moments where only my sense of propriety has restrained me from flying into a heated rage. – Gigi _

xoxoxo

Whittaker condensed the story as best he could, really only sharing how Subject Delta had killed Subject Alfa and how they'd then all eventually gone insane to varying degrees. "So what makes David so special? Or Subject Alfa, for that matter?"

"Well the Alfa wasn't special. _Born_ werewolves usually have significantly less issues than their 'turned' counterpoints. David, though…who knows? Strong psychological fortitude? The catharsis from butchering the guy that did this to him and killed his mom? Not my job to know. All I know is that he has what a squad of battle-vetted enlisted men didn't. Kurt, if I promise to _personally_ look after your boy…could we maybe, _possibly_ share him without you freaking out?"

Kurt sucked in his lower lip and chewed on it. "I…I think…I _might_ be able to deal with it."


	44. At long last

**Fic Search: I need my readers' help again (you guys helped me find a fic before). I'm trying to find a fic I used to love (but apparently didn't save). The glee guys figure out Dave was gay and they have a locker room orgy (no Kurt involved). Dave's a total cockwhore and wants it any way he can get it. Sound familiar to anyone? It was written sometime during season two-ish.**

xoxoxo

David came to a stop at the front steps of McKinley. He buckled in the center, placing his hands on his knees to support himself. His lungs burned and it was physically painful to pull the oxygen into his chest. His legs weren't too bothered by the lengthy jog, but his lungs felt _angry_. He allowed himself a few minutes of huffing and puffing before he straightened himself back out. Between labored breaths, David was able to force out, "Phew…I figured I could probably do that, but I've never actually tried."

Whittaker was still jogging in place, wearing black nylon shorts with the slayer shield on the side, and a black cotton t-shirt with the slayer shield over the left breast. He had a nondescript black bookbag strapped to his back. "You never know what you can do until you actually _try_." David was wearing grey sweatpants and a grey hooded sweatshirt with cut off sleeves. His book bag was buckled across his chest and his waist to keep it high and tight. Back at home, at the start of their jog, the weight of the book bag had been completely unnoticeable; now, David felt like he had a ton of bricks clinging to him. "Meet you here after school?"

Whittaker was _still_ jogging in place. David kind of wanted to see him trip…just because. It annoyed him that a sixty-some-odd-year-old _dead_ guy had more stamina than him. "Are we going to jog back?"

Whittaker shrugged. "I figured we could do some strength training. The school gym has weights, right?"

"I…uh, the locker room does…but I don't think I'm very welcome in there anymore."

Whittaker blew air out between his pursed lips, making a "pfft" sound. "They can deal with it. I'll be with you. I'd love to see them try and mess with a slayer. So…you have classes to prepare for and I have some meetings to deal with. I'll meet you here after school and glee, we'll do some stretches out here, a light jog, and then some weight training in the locker room."

David's muscles whimpered in fear at the thought, but he wasn't going to show any weakness to Whittaker. "Yep. School's out about 2:15. Glee's out around three. I'll meet you then." Whittaker nodded and took off jogging around the side of the school, heading out towards the football field. Once David was certain Whittaker was out of sight, he grabbed the stitch in his side and began limping sorely up the front steps of McKinley.

xoxoxo

His lungs and sides no longer hurt, but the moment he became consciously aware of this fact, he became equally aware of the fact that his feet were now nothing more than blisters on top of blisters. A five mile jog wasn't exactly his idea of a "fun time" under the best of circumstances, but seeing as he was out of shape from the lack of sports for the past few months, it was all the worse.

There had been more than a few jokes about David's subsequent limping, but, in all honesty, they were the tamest "jokes" he had been the butt of in months. Finn joined David as the class ended and they walked together to their next class. "I can't believe Whittaker made you _jog_ to school."

"He's a cruel, cruel bitch."

"Ha. Yeah. Do you know why he's been hanging in Figgins' office all morning?"

"No, not rea – wait, what?"

"Puck says he saw him in there during first period and I walked by the office last period and it looked like he'd set up some kind of temporary base. He had a desk and everything…one of those crappy desks they give us, not a teacher desk or anything, but he was working on some paperwork."

David pivoted on his heel (probably popping a blister in the process) as he turned and headed off towards the main office. Finn waffled for a moment, trying to decide whether to stand by his "bro" or to actually get to class on time, before deciding to follow David. True to Finn's word, Whittaker sat on the couch in the office, a metal school desk pulled in front of him. He was no longer dressed in his jogging outfit, but had his regular slayer suit on. Whittaker seemed to sense David's presence and looked up, quickly waving him in. "When you said you had meetings today, I assumed they were somewhere, you know, _not here_."

"I needed a fax," Whittaker picked up the stack of papers in front of himself and straightened them out by tapping the bottoms on the desk, "I needed to have a meeting with your principal, and I need to protect the 'gubbnent's' investment."

"Ummm…"

"Your eloquence astounds me." Whittaker handed the stack of papers to David. "This is your contract with the FBI. Take a seat and we can look it over, together."

David looked at the front page and took note of how thick the packet was – probably a good forty pages. He was, after all, a 'special case.' "You've read it?"

"Yep."

"It's what I was promised? No tricks? I'm not getting fucked over in anyway?"

Whittaker shook his head. "In my experience, it's usually in poor taste to 'fuck over' a werewolf. Unless you're suicidal, of course."

"Of course." David flicked through the pages, not really _looking_ at anything, but seeing if anything jumped out at him. "Could we just sign it? I trust you."

Whittaker nodded. "If that's what you want." Whittaker took the packet from David and shuffled through it, showing David all the places to sign, date and initial. When they were done signing, Whittaker stood, running his hands down his legs to straighten out his trousers; Whittaker had apparently brought his own change of clothes to McKinley. "All right, raise your right hand." David frowned, but followed along. "Traditionally, this is done by the Assistant Director of the FBI at the start of training, but he's not here right now and you'll be training under me until you go off to Quantico this summer, so whatever. Repeat after me… 'I, David Theodore Karofsky-'"

"How do you, uh, know my middle name? Kurt doesn't even know my middle name." It occurred to him as he was speaking that Whittaker had been his own personal stalker for about eight years; of course he knew his middle name. "Ah, never mind. I, David Karofsky,"

"…do solemnly swear…that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States…against all enemies, foreign and domestic; …that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; …that I take this obligation freely, …without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; …and that I will well and faithfully…discharge the duties of the office…on which I am about to enter.…So help me God." David parroted his lines back to Whittaker during every pause. Where once, this would have been viewed as the most solemn moment in David's life, he found himself, at the moment, having trouble keeping a straight face, he was so giddy. "Congratulations. You've been sworn into the FBI. I'll have your paperwork sent back to DC later and then we'll get you fitted for your suit…with the understanding that it is _only_ to be worn for official business."

"Official business, of course." _And taking Kurt out on nice dates, putting the fear of god into a few of the meatheads at this school, looking like a general badass._ "That goes without saying."

"All right, so I had a meeting with your principal earlier. We had a nice long talk about how some of your teachers were treating you and grading you. I…_reminded _Principal Figgins that discrimination against you would be a violation of Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973."

David glanced over at Figgins' secretary to see if she was paying attention to what they were talking about. She didn't appear to be, but you could never be certain. "Unhumans have legal protection?"

"Not as such, but it has been successfully argued in certain circuit courts that some unhuman designations qualify for protection under existing laws that protect the handicapped and otherwise differently-abled."

David raised an eyebrow as he pondered that. "Seriously?"

Whittaker shrugged. "Yeah, sure, why not?" Whittaker's expression left David doubting the veracity of his statement. "So, as it stands, you'll take all your regular courses, but because your teachers will probably find any excuse not to give you the grades you justly deserve, your grades will be pass/fail."

"And what's to keep them from just failing me?"

"It'll be a lot harder for them to fudge grades. So…if you don't want to give them an excuse to fail you, I advise you stop skipping and get back to class."

David jogged off down the hall (his aching feet long forgotten), headed for his social studies class, Finn just behind him getting debriefed on what had happened. They slowed just as they came to the door of the classroom. Finn was the first to enter the classroom. He got an unintelligible grunt from the teacher, acknowledging his tardy presence. David came in a second behind and garnered their teacher's full attention. "You're late, Mr. Karofsky."

"Yeah, sorry. I was in Figgins' office getting sworn into the FBI." If David had taken a picture of his teacher's face, it would have been enough to keep him feeling smug the rest of his life.

xoxoxo

It was the same trousers, blouse and tie he had worn to junior prom. He was rather partial to it; it reminded him that the student body of McKinley thought he and Kurt belonged together – even if they had meant it in a cruel manner. "You are such a dork." David glanced at the reflection of a half-dressed Kurt in the vanity as he straightened his tie. "Just because Whittaker swore you into the FBI a week ago doesn't mean you need to dress up like you're going to funeral everyday. At _least_ wait until you get your official suit and patches."

David quirked a lop-sided smile as he turned around to kiss his boyfriend. "I'm an agent-in-training, now. I need to put forth a good image."

"I only see the image of a dork."

David cupped his hand under Kurt's cheek as he kissed him a second time. "Well, why don't you go start breakfast, while I go get dork-junior?"

xoxoxo

David rolled the sleeves on his blouse up around his elbows as he walked next door to the nursery. The door was closed and David could faintly make out Moo-Cow's shadow pacing underneath the door. A paw slipped under the door and attempted to pull the door inward. A plaintive "_mew_" could be heard. David grasped the doorknob and slowly opened the door, sidestepping Cow as she darted passed him. The room was a wreck. Alex's bedtime-toys (lovies and stuffed animals) were strewn across the floor. The baby-monitor, usually perched on the changing table beside the crib, lay on the floor, the battery cover a few inches away. Most alarming of all was Alex, himself.

At least David _assumed_ it was Alex.

Alex was lying in his crib, on his back, with part of his blanket being chewed in his mouth. A chubby little fist gripped another part of the blanket.

A fist.

A chubby, pink, _furless_ fist.

Alex turned his head to the side and smiled when he spotted his daddy. It took him a moment of wobbling back and forth, but he was able to roll himself onto his stomach. He made a throwing motion with the fist the clutched the blanket and giggled to himself when it didn't get very far.

He giggled. His son _giggled_. It was the most perfectly melodious sound David had ever heard.

Alex pushed himself up to his knees and crawled forward in his crib until he was against the bars. Gripping the bars, he attempted to pull himself into a sitting position. He succeeded for a moment but then began to totter back and forth before falling forward and smacking his head against one of the bars. There was a moment of ear-splitting silence that seemed to last an eternity before Alex began wailing at the top of his lungs. David was frozen in his stupor. The sound of his son's crying seemed to run through him like an electric shock. Alex craned his neck upwards, staring at his father through a scrunched up face. That look was all David needed to act. David rushed forward and grabbed Alex up in his arms, scooping the blanket around him as he did so. "Hush, sh-sh-sh. It's ok. It's ok." David bounced Alex in his arms, trying to settle him. "Kurt! _Kurt!_ _**Kurt**_**!**"

Carol, Finn, Burt, and Kurt all shoved their way into the nursery. Kurt didn't even seemed phased by Alex's change. He took Alex from David, cradling him in his arms, tight against his chest. Over the sounds of Alex's crying (which was slowly dying into a whimper), David could hear the sound of Kurt humming.

Alex let out a small hiccough that signaled the end of his tears. His lower lip stuck out, causing his chin to dimple. Digging his fingers into Kurt's shirt, he turned to look at everyone in the room. He reached one of his hands towards David, but when he felt his body leaning backwards he collapsed against Kurt's chest, burying his head against Kurt's neck. David stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and son. As he felt Alex's fingers grabbing at his sleeve, David realized that this moment would be forever ingrained upon his heart.


	45. The Not Quite a Party

**Sorry it's been so long. My state declared a state of emergency, then we had four weeks of horrific standardized testing, then I started up a lecture series at Yale, now I'm starting up classes at SCSU. Fun times…**

**Plus this chapter gave me massive writer's block and I'm still not too happy with it.**

**The fic I mentioned in my last AN is **_**Good Enough:**_

**ficbycam (period) livejournal (period) com (slash) 48939 (period) html – very good PWP.**

xoxoxo

Kurt and David had made a cushiony nest of blankets on the floor of the living room. Alex was on his back in the middle of the nest, his legs up in the air. He grabbed at his feet with his hands as he giggled at seemingly nothing.

There had been a brief argument between David and Kurt as to what Alex's first real outfit would be. David wanted him in a pale blue t-shirt that said "Daddy's little squirt" (with a picture of a smiling sperm on it) and a pair of tan shorts. Kurt wanted Alex in a fancy, little, white button-down with a plaid clip-on tie and blue corduroy pants. While Kurt was busy arguing that David's choice was grossly inappropriate and David argued that Kurt seriously lacked a sense of humor, Burt took it upon himself to sneak Alex off and dress him up in a green shirt with a picture of a t-rex and the caption "Rawr means 'I love you' in dinosaur" and a pair of blue jeans.

David had ditched school for the day and, once school was out, it felt like everyone Kurt and David had ever met had come over to see the change in Alex. "Why would you ever pick being human over being a werewolf?"

"What do you mean, Puck?" Alex had managed to get one foot into his mouth and as he pulled it away, he was left with a pale green sock clutched between his teeth. Kurt tried to pinch the sock out of Alex's mouth, but Alex just clamped his teeth down on it and attempted a growl. Even Alex couldn't take his own growling seriously and opened his mouth to let out a high-pitched laugh.

Puck shrugged in response to Kurt's query. "Well, when he's a werewolf, he can run around, he's got awesome hearing and smelling, he can eat just about anything. Now he's just a pink, fur-less chub that lies on the ground and giggles."

Kurt stroked his son's head both fondly and protectively. "He's not a _chub._"

"Yes, he is," chorused at least four different voices, including David, at whom Kurt leveled a steady glare.

"He's light for his age."

"Yeah, but he's also small for his age. He's small and light for his age, but kinda heavy for his _size_."

Kurt pursed his lips at his stepbrother and turned to Rachel with a carefully schooled diplomatic expression. "Rachel, kindly silence your boyfriend before I am _forced_ to silence him." Kurt slid his hands under Alex's shoulders and pulled him up into his lap. Alex's head lolled back as he watched his father upside down. Alex let out a baby-squeal that sounded something like _"gwah!"_ and reached out a hand towards his daddy. Sharp little baby nails clawed at the underside of Kurt's chin, but Kurt didn't mind. He leaned forward and kissed Alex's forehead, giving his son easy access to reach both hands up and grab at fistfuls of skin. Kurt smiled down at his son, cooing as Alex continued to babble unintelligible baby nonsense at him.

Tina reached a finger forward and tickled at the sole of Alex's sock-less foot, prompting Alex to curl up his toes and kick his foot upward out of Tina's reach. "You know, if he'd been born in his human form, no one would have questioned for a second who his other daddy was." Reaching forward even more, Tina tickled at Alex's tummy. Alex sucked his stomach in and swatted at Tina's hand with two clenched fists, then giggled as he stuck one of his fists in his mouth.

"I know. He's got David's hair," Kurt stroked his fingers through Alex's loose, dark brown curls. "He's got David's smile," Kurt poked at one Alex's cheeks, forcing Alex to smile a broad, open-mouthed, partially-toothless smile. "He's got David's nose and chin."

David stood off to the side, smiling awkwardly, his arms folded across his chest as his face got redder and redder. "Yeah, well he's got your eyes." It was true; Alex had those indescribable eyes that seemed to change colors as you looked into them: those stunning, multi-hued eyes that the French called "glasz."

"And Kurt's lungs." Burt sat on the couch behind his son, his wife beside him. "He squeals bloody-murder just to see how we'll react. He's also testing out all the different sounds he can make with his new mouth."

Whittaker sat cross-legged on the floor across from Kurt, by David's feet, looking completely out of place in his crisp suit, surrounded by scruffy teenagers. He'd spent the day with the Hummel-Hudson-Karofsky family, helping Burt make the baby nursery more _human_-baby-friendly and helping out with menial tasks while the family ooh-ed and aww-ed over the "new" addition to the family. "I'd have to call and ask Grace, but I'm sure he's more intelligent than other babies of this age. As a werepup, his brain developed more quickly; I refuse to believe all that intelligence just _disappeared_ when he became human."

"Why not? It disappears when David becomes Wolf."

Whittaker sucked in his breath through his nose as he thought – something of a 'reverse sigh.' "Wolf isn't _un_intelligent: just sheltered. He has an elementary school level education and social skills. Once Grace teaches the two to merge…be afraid, be _very_ afraid." The tone of Whittaker's voice was obviously being melodramatically prophetic, but David nudged him roughly with his foot, anyway. "Back to Puck's original question, though…I'm sure it's safer for a werewolf baby to be in human form. Less of a target for angry mobs which pitchforks and torches. An evolutionary precaution, so-to-speak."

"That means I don't have to be afraid to take him to the park, and to the grocery store, and toy store, and to the mall and to school."

"Uhh…" The more sensible people in the room – mostly adults – all exchanged wary glances with each other. "Kurt…" said Finn, who hadn't exchanged a look with the others, but rather stared incredulously at his stepbrother, "everyone at McKinley _knows_ Alex is a werewolf. It doesn't matter what he _looks_ like; he's still a werewolf. I know you used to sneak Alex into glee club and to the rehearsals, but you can't just… _shove him_ in everyone's faces now. Just because he _looks_ human, doesn't mean people will all of a sudden forget he's a werewolf."

Cradling one arm behind Alex's back and the other tucked under his tushy, Kurt pulled Alex close to his chest. He looked defensive as he rubbed his cheek against Alex's fluffy baby-curls. "He's just a baby…he's not even _scary_."

"If it makes you feel better, I can be your personal bodyguard whenever you feel like shoving Alex in people's faces. I have a certain soft spot for making norms feel uncomfortable when it comes to unhumans – especially when they can't do anything about it."

Kurt smiled up at Whittaker. "Thank you…I'd appreciate that."

Sebastian crawled across the floor towards Kurt and Alex; both father and son watched the Warbler warily. Kurt still didn't much trust or care for the incubus, but Blaine liked him – _loved_ him, if certain other Warblers were to be believed – so Kurt had no choice but to put up with the demon-weasel. Alex was just nervous of most people today because he couldn't smell anything. Everyone in his world had a distinct smell that he knew to be _them_, but ever since this morning – poof! – almost all smells were gone.

When Sebastian was a foot or so away from Alex, Alex let out a low "gah-gwa-gwa-gwa!" They had decided earlier in the day that these noises were probably Alex's human attempts at barking. Sebastian mimicked the noise back at Alex, startling him into silence. Alex watched, gaping at Sebastian, before allowing himself a wide smile and a high-pitched peel of laughter. He kind of thought he might recognize Sebastian, so he held out his hands towards him.

Without even waiting for a sign of permission from Kurt, Sebastian grabbed Alex around the middle and pulled Alex towards himself, rolling onto his back and lifting Alex in the air as he did so. Alex squealed excitedly and let loose a torrent of baby-babble, "ah-bah-bah-dah-bah-mah-ah-dah!"

Color Kurt surprised. Yes, Sebastian had proved to be at least something of a friend when David had faced a potential death sentence, but Kurt couldn't really picture Sebastian _liking_ anyone – at least anyone he couldn't have sex with. Especially not a small, squealing, drooly, wrinkly baby. Blaine obviously read the shock on Kurt's face, "Sebastian has six younger brothers and sisters through his mom. He's really good with kids."

"I don't get to see them all that often, but when I do…" Sebastian started bobbing and weaving Alex through the air, making airplane noises between his lips. The plane ride continued for many minutes – long enough that Sebastian got a good burn in his biceps.

When Alex's manic giggling had subsided, Sebastian slowed down the plane ride and passed Alex overhead to Blaine, shaking out his arms to ease some of the muscle strain. Blaine coddled Alex in close, so that Alex could rest his head on his shoulder. Alex made a feeble, tired attempt to grab at Blaine's hair, but quickly gave up and latched onto the collar of Blaine's shirt instead.

xoxoxo

"First time we've had that many people in the house without me havin' to clean smooshed up cake off the couch cushions or untangle balloons from the ceiling fan." Burt collected up what little garbage the kids had left behind from the living room. Carol had made chicken Caesar salads for a light dinner for their guests and most had been polite enough to dispose of their own garbage.

Alex had spent most of the afternoon and evening drifting between different states of drowsy, tired, napping, and passed out, as he was passed from shoulder to shoulder of Kurt and David's friends. Everything had been so hectic and exciting that Alex felt it was easier to just sleep through everything rather than deal with it. If it were something lasting, he could deal with it later; if not, why bother? The world had gotten too strange for Alex today; everything looked funny, he could barely smell or hear anything, and everyone was fussing over him. Yes, he was used to being fussed over, but not by so many people at _once_. He was taken from out of Uncle Finn's arms and allowed himself to settle into Other Daddy's arms. Other Daddy was warm and soft and comfy. And though he couldn't smell anything very well, he could still smell the faint, earthy muskiness of Other Daddy.

Other Daddy jostled him ever so slightly as he climbed the stairs. Oh, good: Other Daddy was putting him to bed. He had almost dozed off again by the time Other Daddy was lowering him into his crib. Alex rolled over cuddling against one of his pillows as a blanket was pulled up over him. A glance upward towards the top of his changing table revealed a pair of orangey-green eyes staring down at him. Alex gurgled a tired, yet happy, coo at his beloved friend-slash-pet. Other Daddy scratched behind Moo Cow's ears, prompting the kitty to stand and stretch before jumping down into Alex's crib. Cow sniffed tentatively at Alex, still completely baffled by what had happened to the werewolf pup. Alex was too tired to grab at Moo Cow or throw anything like he had that morning, so Moo Cow curled up around him with ever decreasing trepidation.

When Alex had finally dozed off for good, Moo Cow resting beside him, using Alex's chest as his own pillow, David flicked the lamp off and went to his and Kurt's bedroom.

Kurt was already there, getting ready to go to sleep. David, not nearly as fastidious as Kurt, pulled his shoes, pants, and shirt off and crawled straight into bed, boxers and socks still on. Kurt climbed in beside him fifteen minutes later and immediately snuggled against David's side. "Since Whittaker has volunteered to be your own-personal hitman, I was thinking maybe you could get around to coming to glee club sometime?"

Kurt picked at the sparse hairs around David's nipples, causing a tickling sensation to radiate throughout David's chest. David batted Kurt's hand away good-naturedly and rolled onto his side so that he and Kurt were face to face. "Hmmm…Kurt Hummel attend a flamboyant display of pop-culture adulation and veneration…seems more like a _jock_ thing to me." David poked Kurt in the ribs, prompting Kurt to curl into the fetal position to avoid more poking. "All right, all right, of course I'll go."


	46. Dinner for Five

David flicked his wrists, straightening out the cuffs of his shirt while eyeing himself over in Kurt's vanity. He could hear Kurt enter the room and come up behind him even before his reflection showed at the edge of the mirror. Kurt's hair was still dripping from the shower, but the water fell harmlessly onto the shoulders of his burgundy bathrobe. Before David could fully register the motion in the mirror, Kurt's hand came up and whacked him firmly on the back of his head. David ducked his neck down, arching his shoulders instinctively out of shock, as opposed to pain. "I have little red _bite_ marks on my butt from you."

David smiled, feeling rather pleased with himself. "And a tasty ass it was."

"Jackass," Kurt mumbled under his breath, roughly shoving David away from his vanity by hip-checking him. David, fully dressed and ready to head out for the evening, surrendered the vanity to Kurt and allowed himself to fall backwards onto the bed, carefully avoiding falling on Alex. Alex had been cuddling with one of his blankies in the center of the bed, but dropped the blanket and started sluggishly crawling towards his father in jerky motions. David didn't close the distance between himself and his son, instead encouraged Alex to stretch his little muscles out in ways they weren't accustomed to. Alex had been in his human form for a full week now, but still refused to crawl more than a foot or so at a time; Dave mused how awkward it must be to go from being fully mobile to _crawling_.

When Alex had gotten close to his daddy, he lifted one hand to David's face and grabbed at his cheek. Alex felt the compulsive need to grab at everything now that he had fully functioning fingers. Throwing things was still exciting, but the ability to grab something and shove it in his mouth was even more so. His little fingers still digging into the side of David's face, Alex scuttled those last few inches to his father and allowed himself to simply collapse on David. A moment later, Alex was licking where his hand had been grabbing.

Smiling to himself (and to his son), David rolled enough to scoop up Alex in his hands and hover him in the air over his head. Alex babbled away excitedly, letting out little "coos" of thrill every so often. David had little to no experience with babies, but he was more than positive Alex was "chatty" by most toddler standards. It wasn't uncommon for either Kurt or David to wake up in the middle of the night to hear Alex "talking" to himself (or possibly Moo Cow) through the intercom. More than once, they'd been woken up to shrill screeches from Alex and had run to his room, only to find him giggling maniacally at his own "prank."

"Get him dressed while the two of you are playing?"

David rolled Alex over in his hands so that he was facing the ceiling, than lowered him until he was only an inch or so above the mattress. He released him, allowing him to fall on his back the last few inches, prompting Alex to let out an excitable, impressed "AHhh-waaa!" followed by a string of snort-like laughs. "We aren't playing; this is super-serious stuff."

David grabbed Alex's outfit for the evening off the pillows and started playing dress up – one of Alex least favorite games. As one arm went in a sleeve, the other arms came out. While David pulled Alex's pants on, Alex busied himself trying to worm his way out of his shirt. Partway through the night, Alex would likely be half naked with a backwards shirt on, but at least David could claim he gave it an honest effort. By David's fifth attempt at getting a sock on the increasingly agile and dexterous Alex's foot Kurt's hair was dry and he was dressed. Kurt just looked at his boyfriend and son, rolled his eyes, and slipped the last articles of clothing onto Alex before David could catch his breath. "You have to admit, it's like trying to get an octopus into feet-in pajamas."

"I'm not surprised, you can barely dress yourself."

In a little kid's whine, David retorted, "You're mean."

Lowering a hand to pull David up from his seated position on the bed, Kurt responded, "Yes, and _we're_ late. Come on."

xoxoxo

"Hello, Neck-Biter."

David directed his comment (in a friendlier tone than Kurt had expected) to Blaine, but Sebastian was the one to respond. "Greetings, Ass-Sniffer." Blaine had the decency to ignore David's comment, but smacked Sebastian lightly on the arm. "We've all ready gotten a table; we were just waiting on you two."

"Three." David was holding Alex in his arms so that Alex's body was pressed against David's chest, Alex's head resting on David's shoulder as Alex sucked on the collar of David's blouse.

Sebastian reached out a hand and stroked Alex's back, a small smile playing on his lips and his eyes shining. He looked doofy by Dave's estimation. "Yeah, but _this_ lil' guy isn't the reason you're late." Leaning in, Sebastian placed his hands on Alex's sides and looked at David for confirmation. David gave him a quick nod and allowed Sebastian to take over carrying duty. Bouncing Alex up and down in his hands, Sebastian switched over from speaking normally to baby-talking Alex, "Is nah _your_ fault your momma-daddy spends his life fixing his hair."

Kurt rolled his eyes, shaking his head as his hand slipped into David's and Blaine led them to their table, where four menus awaited them. It wasn't Breadstix. Blaine and Kurt had wanted somewhere a bit nicer – but not so nice Alex's presence would be frowned upon. There were tablecloths and candles in crackle-glass jars. Breadstix didn't trust their clientele with candles; there would be no more Breadstix if they did. The pasta sauces came from scratch and not a can and the staff was trained to identify the ideal wine to accompany each entrée. It was far enough outside of Lima that they didn't have to worry about the average person identifying David or Alex and werewolves.

Now that Alex was no longer draped across David's front, Kurt could get a good look at David's shirt. "Ugh, you let Alex drool on you." Kurt use one of the soft, cotton napkins to wipe at the spittle trail on David's shirt.

"Why are you automatically blaming Alex?" Sebastian rubbed his nose against Alex's, cooing at him as he made faces. Alex squealed and grabbed at Sebastian's hair.

"Well it was either him or David, and I highly doubt David did it."

Looking down at his shirt, David ran his finger over the dark moisture spot, trying to rub the moisture away. "I dunno…I _did_ fall asleep on the way over here. It _might_ have been me." Kurt raised a you've-got-to-be-kidding-me eyebrow at David. "What? It happens."

The four teenagers began looking over their menus, with Sebastian only paying his a cursory glance, instead favoring making faces at Alex over the top of his menu. "Look, Dave." Kurt pushed his menu in front of David's. "They have a fruit parfait in the dessert section."

"I dunno. The little pieces of blueberries…he might choke."

"They've gotta have a blender or something in the kitchen."

David leaned over to see Kurt's menu more clearly in the candlelight. When he found what he was looking for, he pointed it out to Kurt. "They have tuna in one of the entrees. I was eating a tuna sandwich in the café at school the other day and was thinking the texture of tuna is kinda perfect for Alex. Mushy, but it'll get him re-used to the idea of chewing his food."

"I dunno…I'd be worried with a normal baby because of the mercury, but with a werewolf pup I'm doubly worried. Wolfies don't react well to even the smallest amounts of mercury, and Alex doesn't have any kind of immune system in place yet."

David furrowed his brow. "I eat tuna at school all the time and never had an issue."

"Sweety…I highly doubt what you eat in the cafeteria at McKinley qualifies as _food_ let alone tuna. That and if it _were_ tuna, it's probably albacore. Albacore has lower levels of mercury than bluefin."

Blaine watched the exchange with a look of mild fascination. "Is _every_ meal this involved?"

Kurt and David looked at each other for some understanding before looking back at Blaine. "What do you mean?"

"It's just…you're obsessing over the tiniest things. Things a normal person wouldn't ever _think_ of."

"Well…when Alex was first born, he went from a strictly liquid based diet to being fully capable of chowing down on most solids practically overnight. I never really needed to give it much thought. I just made sure what he was eating was developmentally nutritious. Now, there's a serious choking concern. It's hard to find foods we don't have to worry about him choking on."

"Yeah, but the _mercury_?"

David fielded this question, "Mercury poisoning is a concern for most parents. _Plus_, while it isn't as poisonous to werewolves as silver is, it can still cause some nasty instant issues similar to a hardcore allergic reactions."

Blaine, smiling, shook his head. "Whatever."

Sebastian had appeared to be ignoring the conversation to play with Alex, but finally input his own two cents. "Your mommy and daddy are _cwazy_. Can you say '_cwazy'?"_

The waitress came back with their drink orders just in time to prevent a snide retort from Kurt. The four gave her their orders, and then changed topics. "So, Sebastian…I take it you want kids?"

Sebastian shrugged off-handedly. "Just one or two."

"Really? I thought you'd collect them like Angelina Jolie."

Shaking his head, Sebastian continued on, "Naw. I'll have one or two to spoil rotten. Anymore than that…I probably wouldn't be able to dote on each one as much as I'd like."

"What about the two of you?" Blaine redirected the conversation, bringing it back to David and Kurt. "Anymore pups in your future?"

David looked to Kurt, not sure how to respond. Kurt blushed and took a sip from his water to delay answering. Realizing he was on his own there, David cleared his throat. "Uh, well…Alex was kinda unexpected. I…suppose we'll just have to see how we feel once we're…_you know_…_adults_."

Putting his glass down, Kurt turned the question back around on Blaine. "What about you? Any bat-babies in your future?"

"Bat babies. _Cute_. I imagine if it ever came up, yeah, sure. Not something I've ever given a whole lot of thought to. I'm not entirely sure I'd want to bring another unhuman into the world – not the way it is now, anyway. But…'_que sera, sera'_."

Eventually the conversation moved on to other topics, including glee club, school, and inevitably, Kurt and David's plans for after their graduation. "I'm not going law, like my father, that's for sure." Sebastian had to think of his potential futures for a minute before continuing on. "I've always been good with business. Maybe I'll get an MBA. I like the idea of getting to boss people around. I guess I could see myself in management of some kind. What about you, batboy?"

Kurt's comment about Blaine with bat-babies had stuck, and the boys had all shirked Blaine's proper name in favor of batboy. "Well, I have an undeniable aptitude for communications – goes with the genetics. I could probably be happy in a PR type of position."

"You should talk to Whittaker. Slayers don't care much for your kind, but he says hostage negotiations is always on the lookout. Even if you don't wind up with the FBI, there are plenty of other organizations and bureaus looking for people to deal with terrorists and the like." He still wasn't sure how he felt about Blaine, but Kurt liked him – they were best friends for all intents and purposes. Perhaps it would be a good thing if David could talk Blaine into signing up with the FBI. Kurt wouldn't have to be so alone while they were in Virginia. Granted, Blaine wouldn't join them for a year if he _did_ decide to come along, but David worried about how Kurt would handle being in Virginia next year. His family was hours away, he only had Alex and him, and David would be devoting most of his time to FBI training, Slayer training, and college courses. At best, the next year would be rather lonely for Kurt.

"Are you looking forward to Slayer training?" The waitress returned with their meals, placing the tray on a folding rack while she identified each boy's meal.

"Definitely. Whittaker and I have been doing some preliminary training – jogging, shooting, pushups, situps, the regular military crap, but I'm _really_ looking forward to the environment – the _discipline_."

The waitress smiled at David admiringly. "You're going into the Slayers?"

"Yeah, I leave for training in a few months." David turned back to the rest of the table; Kurt had probably told Blaine and Sebastian by now, but he felt the need to _ensure_ they knew. "I leave right after graduation."

"I'll be following along not long after. Whittaker wants David to get settled in and adjusted before Alex and I start distracting him."

The waitress placed David's food before him, regaining his attention. "It's absolutely wonderful what you're doing for our country. We need more people like you willing to stand up to those creatures."

It was obvious the waitress hadn't overheard the vast majority of their evening's discussions. Everyone at the table felt compelled to look towards Blaine – his eyes had flashed a startling red color. "Unhumans aren't all that bad." His eyes flashed again as he maintained perfect eye contact with the waitress. "Unhumans are just people. They aren't all that bad."

"No…I suppose they aren't." The waitress's voice came out soft and unconvinced, as though she were just parroting back a message for someone else. Her eyes looked glazed over and she had trouble focusing on anything in particular. She finished distributing their dinners and went on her way.

"Did you just _charm_ her?" Kurt knew vampires could do that, but had never actually seen it happen. Blaine nodded as he drank from his soda. "So…what, she's not a speciesist anymore?"

Blaine frowned and shook his head. "No, it doesn't work like that. _Right now_ she'll believe exactly what I told her to – that we're not all that bad. It'll start to wane pretty quickly though: within a few hours." Blaine was pensive for a moment as his lips crooked up into a lopsided smile. "Every so often though, for the rest of her life, she'll have a fleeting thought come to her – unexpected, unbidden – that maybe, just perhaps, unhumans really aren't so bad. Whether or not she believes this thought is up to her, but like subliminal messages, at least the thought is _there_."


End file.
